


A Riffle and the Sea

by Follower_Of_Mania



Series: Warrior of the Grey [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/F, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Multi, Mutant Chipmunk, Mythology References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 58,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Follower_Of_Mania/pseuds/Follower_Of_Mania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A seed of doubt can change the world. When a younger Clarke gets sent to the ground alone she meets a clan, let's just say that Clarke grew up with some... interesting role models</p><p>"Now, Clarke of the kru that is dead and traitorous, do you wish to join me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is being completely edited! If you read it prior to February 19, 2017 be in for a surprise. My writing style has changed a lot since I originally started working on this story and I'm excited to revisit and tweak it. Some chapters I plan on removing completely or just combining into two. We'll see how it goes.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

There was once a world in which Jake Griffin was a trusting man.

There was once a world in which Clarke Griffin was a princess of the sky.

There was once a world in which friendship existed beyond the boundaries of the clouds.

* * *

A faceless deity watched such a world in boredom. With a sad smile that screamed of mischief a gnarled hand grabbed an ivory bowl. With a tilt the deity sent a spiraling drop of fowl liquid into the universe.

"Go Mania, spread your discord and entertain me."

With a cheshire grin a ghost within the underworld concentrated her influence, "With pleasure my liege."

* * *

Jake Griffin stood solemnly beside his wife as he watched the Chancellor step forward towards the airlock. The Chancellor's face was stoney as he regarded a man accused of committing thievery. Jake searched Jaha's eyes, looking for signs of regret. Guards lined the hallowed walls, their faces broken. Jake watched his fellow environmental engineer as he pleaded and cries harsh tears banging his fists against unbreakable glass. Harsh blood smears against the window and Jake winced.

Doubtful thoughts raced through Jake's mind as he watched a man he would entrust his life to beg and grovel beneath the unyielding fist of one of his closest friends. As he spoke of his family and love Jake heart clenches and thoughts race through his mind of his beloved Clarke. He looked again at Jaha's face for a sign of regret, of remorse. He found nothing. One mighty arm reached around Abby and he pulled her closer attempting to heal the hole that now dwelt within his chest.

But with a careless movement that would of been overlooked at any other moment in his existence, Abby unconsciously shoved him away.

Seeing her moment, Mania silently dropped a wee bit of doubt atop Jake's shoulder. A wee bit of doubt that would later lead to massive consequence.

Jake's doubt ran so deep that he began to search for things that otherwise would of remained hidden.

* * *

Clarke was eleven when Jake finds out about the Arc's limited air. And in a moment that divides dimensions, he decided that not all of humanity was worth saving.

Instead of a video, he built a one-man drop ship, and he saved the only person that dwelled beyond his doubts.

* * *

Clarke was twelve when she comes home to her mother's screaming.

Clarke was twelve when she trusts a friend and that friend seemingly gets her father killed.

Clarke was twelve when she gets sent to Earth, alone.


	2. The Moon and the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke meets Luna

A soft breeze carries weird smells to my nose. I can hear happy cheers and laughing far away. A damp pressure is forced on my forehead by some strange, scratchy cloth that has been tied around my head firmly. My mouth is dry and tastes like some of mom's cough medicine. My arm hurts faintly and there's something solid but crumbly underneath me. Dad's face flashes before my eyes and I take a sharp breath.

Everything smells weird down here. There's no medicine in the air from mom's latest appointment. There's no faint machine hum in the background. There's no metallic ring of footsteps.

I can hear a wish wash of water that reminds me of dad twirling his drink in thought after dinner.

I'm scared.

My eyes open and blink quickly at the light that's brighter than anything I've ever seen. A strange hand reaches out to me and pushes me back down to the ground.

_"Pleni goufa"_

A strange voice speaks words I don't understand and I fight against the hand that tries to hold me down. Another, stronger hand grabs my other arm and steadies the woman's grip.

"Who are you?" My voice cries out. I can feel the people stiffen and tighten their grip at my words. Do they understand? My eyes close in panic as I flinch at the bright light. Colours danced across my eyes with a passion that I have only seen hints of in faded old books from long ago.

 _"Gonot Libra",_ speaks the woman.

" _Sha Nomon"_ replies the man.

His hands leave my arm and I free myself from the woman's grip before scooting away. My eyes open once more and I drink in the bright colours of things Dad told me only existed in stories. A familiar metal hulk is being torn apart by heavily muscled men in what appears to be a black coloured mix of animal pelts, normal clothing and old sports padding with blue hints. They all had a crescent blue marking on their right arm. I can see a heavy form that must be the man called Libra strolling towards them to help.

"Be calm _goufa_ , My _kru_ call me Luna, or _Nomon_ on the battlefield." speaks the woman in front of me. Her hair is blond, like mine and her skin much paler than the others but still darker than mine. Black paint is smeared across her face in confusing waves and her eyes have wrinkles at the end from smiling, like Dad. She wears the same type of clothing as the others but with the crescent marking not on her right arm but on her chest, "What is it that your _kru_ call you, _goufa?"_ I hesitate before offering an answer, a name for a name.

 _"_ My name's Clarke. What do," The words are too strange for me to say them, "those words mean?" Luna smiles at my question and I can almost picture my dad in her stead.

" _Goufa_ is my people's wording for children, and _kru_ is the word I use for my family. Where are your _kru_ Clarke?" I remember my dad's face as the chancellor presses the button to send my dad out the airlock before my drop ship used it's thrusters to propel me to the ground. I clench my teeth together before telling her, what harm would it do now?

"One's dead and the other's a traitor," my voice betrays me and quivers on the words. My mom was there too. She was right there behind him and all she did was smile! My fist clenches and I slam it into the ground. First Wells and then mom! Tears leek out of my eyes but a soft hand wipes them away.

"Shhh _goufa._ A gentle mind can solve all the problems in the world while an angry one can only cause them. There is no need for tears to be shed for that which is lost," her eyes seem to soften further, " _Stedaunon don gon we en kikon ste enti_. The dead are gone and the living are hungry, Clarke," Luna tentatively wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. My nose is pressed into the worn, tough cloth that looked to have seen a thousand battles and I breathed. I breathed in the scent of dried blood, sweat, and tears and decided that maybe, maybe these smells weren't so weird after all.

One of her arms settles comfortably beneath my shoulder blades and the other holds my head soothingly as her fingers tangle themselves in my hair. I lean forward, relaxing into the familiar hold. I can hear another member of Luna's family coming near us but Luna and he converse in hushed tones full of words that I don't understand. He leaves quickly. I sit there, tears fresh on my face and allow myself to be swallowed by the embrace. All thoughts vanish from my mind and I can almost trick myself into thinking that instead of this stranger, my Dad has returned and he's hugging me just like he used to and he's never ever going to leave me again.

Luna holds me until my choked sobs have stilled but tears still drip down my face steadily before she starts to speak once more, "There is only so much that I can do for you _goufa_ , but I ask this openly, shall you follow the path of redemption, or vengeance?"

"What?"

"Redemption or vengeance? Will you redeem yourself or avenge that which you've lost?"

My head remains buried in her tear and snot soaked shoulder as I speak, "Aren't they the same?"

Luna chuckles and as her chest rumbles I'm comforted, "Similar yes, but still different. One is a path of love, and the other a path of hatred," My eyes narrow in thought with this new definition. She continues to speak soothingly, her words smooth like water being poured from one glass to another, "Just as one is the path of love, it is also the path of the living. While the other is the path meant for those who are already dead."

"Luna? How can one be searching yet still dead?"

"My _kru_ have a wording I believe you should know before your judgement, _jus drein jus daun,_ or as you would know it, blood must have blood."

"How is that related?"

"Because as you search for the blood of your enemies your own is steadily being spilt."

I can still feel the faint tang of pain coming from my arm, "Can I have time?"

"Of course, Clarke. When you answer, I shall give my own choice in kind. But until then you must be clothed and fed properly. I shall teach you all you need to survive on this world. Now there is only one more question to ask," at her words my head tilts inwardly to listen better.

"So, tell me Clarke of the _kru_ that is dead and traitorous, will you join me? Will you become part of my _kru?_ "

My mind races at the question. Tears still stream down my face and I can feel the armor of her shoulder pressing into the arm that I am using to desperately press her body into mine. I could turn away, figure out how to survive on my own or die trying. Surely Mother wouldn't want me to be around these blood-soaked people? But as I push myself up to separate us I stare into Luna's eyes.

I stare into blue eyes and I see my own paralleled within them. I can see the pain of every betrayal and the deaths of thousands. I can see a love that failed to blossom and a world that left us behind. I can see my dad, standing there with his hand on her shoulder, smiling encouragingly. In that moment I remember all of the times mom tried to preach to me about saving the many. I run those words through my head, ' _Stedaunon don gon we en kikon ste enti'_ I repeat the words over and over till they seem to lose meaning.

Then I say them once more and the Arc vanishes from my mind.

Wells abandoned me, so I will abandon Wells.

My mom smiled as Dad died so I will smile as my sword strikes down my enemies.

My mouth speaks the words like it was always meant to, " _Sha Nomon"_ and as I agree Luna's hand detaches from it's place on the back of my head and gently wipes some of the blood off my arm.

With a gentle smile she uses the blood to draw two tear like lines falling from my eyes, "Welcome to my _kru_ Clarke, may your fight be long and fruitful _"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Edited: Feb 19, 2017
> 
> Original Note:  
> Heyo! Anyways you guys were so awesome in the comments and reviews that you gave this story so I decided to post the next chapter a wee bit ahead of schedule, though there should still be another chapter tomorrow.  
> Anyways I use a bit of trigedasleng in this chapter but it's all pretty much defined in the story. If I made mistakes though please tell me! I'm still a beginner in trigedasleng grammar.  
> Also, tell me if you want to see more of Clarke growing up in Luna's clan, which is going to be full of OCs and me frantically rewatching season 1 for hints or have me just skip ahead to when Lexa comes in.  
> ~FoM  
> P.S. Mutant chipmunks, yay or nay?


	3. Walls and the Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke settling into Luna's Clan, Clarke at 14

I am a blade, waiting to be tempered. I sat in the fire of a forge for many years, my metal burning red and waiting to be reformed.

There is a hammer slamming into me, forcing perfection with every strike and removing all imperfections. Here and there I must be forced back upon the fire, reformed as the metal becomes misshapen.

The Ark was my forge. My parents a fire kindling beneath me. Luna's teachings are the hammer. The Boat People are the ones who bind me to them. Each warrior that I spar with. Each trader I greet. Each ship I plan to sail upon. Luna's people demand that I be one of them in body, mind and spirit just as the dirt pastes into my skin and my sword melds into my hand.

They tell me of warriors, greater and stronger than I could ever be. I shall become one of those warriors that no others will compare to.

Luna's other students laugh when I say this. They laugh when I run or when I fight. They laugh as I fail.

When I fail, when the dirt crusts my mouth and my teeth are stained by mud, Luna smiles at me and I try again.

There is a strange semblance of normalcy, in the taste of dirt. The way it pastes itself to all indiscriminately. It invades and conquers and nothing can stand in its way. On the Ark they lack dirt just as they lack courage and spirit. The ground is built upon dirt. It welcomes and becomes the dirt. It stains our skin, rubs it rough and strong and makes us worthy of life.

To be worthy of life, to have a reason, a motivation for living. I once lived because there was no other option. Because Dad said I had to get up in the morning. Because there was no death. Floating. On the Ark you do not die, you float. Life and death, concepts so intertwined yet distinct. Each defined by absence.

If you do not die, then all Arkers float. They float through life, through emotions, through struggle. On the Ark, there is no starvation. There is no cold. I have discovered the value of humanity on the ground, surrounded by so few humans. When I am alone I sit and breath, in and out with clouds of fog escaping me. The metal walls in the sky detract from the value of breath. The value of air. The value of dirt.

The dirt pasted on my skin tells me that I am a part it. I breath. My footsteps leave no sound upon the crumbled leaves unlike the ringing tin of boots upon metal. The dirt is around me, in me.

I cringed, the first time Luna asked me to skin an animal. When she slammed the dead rabbit in front of me and told me to take it apart. Mud matted its fur. It had been of the dirt, like me. It was gone, floating. Luna told me of the dirt, of the cycle of things. She held my hand as I skinned the dead rabbit. It did not float.

I do not float. I fall, hard. The ground is both cushion and wall. Both guardian and attacker. Falling hurts. The trees that are the homes of others are a terrain I need to master just as I must master the mountains, the seas and the dirt. It is strange how many different ways there are to describe the ground, the many appearances of dirt in mud or rock. The many types of rock as well, the way some is smooth and others rough. Some rocks pebbles, others rocks boulders. Rocks are rather like people, their forms just as different.

I am a rock. Luna calls me a boulder wishing to be a mountain. Libra calls me a pebble. I am a rock, simple as that. I am at home in the dirt, surrounded by family.

It is as my face rejoins the dirt at the end of a long day, as my knife fulfills the cycle of life, that I feel at home. I am a rock amongst the dirt.

* * *

It had been strange seeing people from the other clans. Some did not carry swords, the fools. Two years on the ground and I knew the rules of being a member of the boat clan by heart already. There was no such thing as safe. Weapons were paramount, danger was omnipresent. The sea was both blessing and hazard, the forest both haven and inferno. The others did not understand. The other clans limited knowledge of combat to the elites. They limited the language of the sky and Mountain Men to their warriors. All boat people were warriors.

All boat people carried weapons. It was a thought that had been hammered into my skull by Luna, a relentless thought chasing me through my days as her student. Every walk through the districts of the boat people's capital city, Hali, was a lesson in spotting weapons. I learned how to hide daggers, how to see the unseen. Above all, as I wander the coastal city I learned the smell of home.

Hali stunk of fish. The smell invaded everything due to the large loads being brought in from the villages further along the coast. The markets throughout the town sold many things from many places but the one thing they sold more than anything else was fish. Every day, every meal, every dish was filled with fish. Occasionally you could find red meat from the animals of the forest but only visitors from other villages tended to buy it.

The only exception was rabbit. Luna said the lean meat of a rabbit made you faster. Fish and rabbit made up the cornerstones of our diet. Fish for the sea blood flowing through our views, rabbit for the speed of our combat and thoughts.

Everything in Hali was filled with philosophy and superstitions, the fish and rabbit of our food, the structure of the city by the resident's destiny in Valhalla, the training of warriors, the rule of the Mother. The city breathed belief and loyalty. It bled warriors.

Every child no matter strength nor brain was given a sword to use in the service of the Mother, _Nomon_ , Luna. Every true warrior choosing their path, some sooner than others.

"Vengeance or Redemption," was the question posed to every warrior who decided to remain known as such. Some had no answer, some had too many. I had none. I was at peace with the dirt, with the fish and the sea. I was at peace with myself and the world around me.

I still hated the smell of medicine. The way it invaded cloth and overpowered the smell of fish if you got too close to the medical district. Smiles haunted me.

Suddenly I was shaken from my morning musings by Luna's hand ruffling my hair.

"I've been calling your name for the last ten minutes," Luna sat across from me at our shared table.

"I was thinking deep thoughts," I stared into the breakfast plate covered in fish in front of me.

"Ah, deep thoughts. I remember those," Luna chuckled.

"Just because you can think up philosophical woojoo from the top of your head doesn't mean I can too!" The words of Luna's language flew freely from me as I crossed my arms and huffed.

"Philosophical 'woojoo' comes at a price you know," Luna stole a bite of my food.

"The Sword Walk?"

"The Sword Walk!" Luna seemed quite proud of herself. A complete reversal of her gloomy, ferocious self of the day before, "However, you are not prepared."

I groaned, I was prepared for nothing. Everything was a series of limits and doors slammed in my face. If only I could wake up one morning and have been born on the ground and raised to strength, instead of having to build strength of my own.

"No groaning! It is a beautiful day, and I have a surprise for you," Luna departed from our house with a wink.

"Obnoxious two-faced woman," I looked at the fish in front of me. The pink texture seemed to stare back at me mockingly, "Obnoxious fish."

Twenty minutes after the fish had been devoured, I stood in front of Luna in the training field of Hali's warrior district. The fields lay just behind the arena and the arena lay next to the smith's district.

"Tardy," Luna's face had fallen into a stiff frown.

I stood still in the line of warrior trainees placed in front of the Mother. There was a clear difference between Luna and the Mother. The Mother didn't smile, Luna always did.

The Mother walked back and forth in front of the warriors, her feet dragging just enough to create a line of footsteps across the dirt of the field. She stopped before one of the others. All nameless as we were not yet worthy of names. Her finger dug into the leather armour that covered his chest, "What are the principles of being one of my warriors?"

The boy shook in his boots, his feet disturbing the ground beneath his feet, "Duty, Blood, Honour?" The Mother's slap was the answer to his question, "Duty. Blood. Honour."

"Better. Two steps back," the Mother continued walking up and down the rows until she stopped before the next unfortunate boy, "What are the paths?"

"White, Black and Grey. The question is Redemption or Vengeance," The boy stared straight ahead and did not flinch as the Mother's hand came down to pat his shoulder.

"Two steps forward," The boy obeyed the Mother's command. She continued her stroll along the line before stopping in front of a confident girl, "What is the White?"

"Redemption," The girl flinched and took a step back as she was struck by the Mother, "What?"

"Redemption is not the White. Two steps forward," The girl obeyed slowly, her feet dragging differently than the Mother's confident shuffle. The Mother walked towards her next victim, a nervous boy I had sparred with the day before, "What is the White?"

"The knowledge that you carry the burdens of the people. That you are both assassin and priest. The White is one half of the Grey, and half of the Mother," the Mother nodded at the boy.

"You forgot that the White is the belief that the needs do not outweigh the methods. Two steps forward," The Mother added before continuing along the line. Her feet stopped their dragging as they arrived in front of me. I dreaded the questions that could come. Her words landed on me like a summer breeze, "What is the Black?"

"The concept that you have no burdens, while carrying all burdens upon you. The Black is the belief that needs outweigh methods and is the other half of the Grey. It is usually half of the Mother and is fulfilled by an assassin," I prepared to be struck, I knew that I had missed something.

"What have you forgotten?"

I search my mind, what else did I know? What could I have forgotten? The answer came to my mind unbidden, spurred by the thoughts I'd been having over my fish that morning, "The Black is separation from the ground with a strong connection to the dirt."

A bit of Luna flashed through the Mother, the betrayal of a lip. She nodded at me, "Two steps forward," I obeyed and could no longer see what was happening behind me.

She moved along the line, her footsteps only trackable by the sound of her shuffling. The footsteps stopped as The Mother asked another question, "What is the Grey?"

There was a pause and the nervous twitching of the students behind me sounded of thunder. Finally, a girl broke the silence, "The Grey is the Oath sworn by the Mother that is a combination of both White and Black."

"Two steps back," The Mother began walking again, "Which is more important, White or Black?"

"Neither," the voice of the boy who spoke was clear and lacked the nervous prelude to the girl who answered before him.

"Two steps forward," the boy stepped forward into my line of sight and I was greeted by the soft smile of Libra, the second who had found me in the wreckage two years ago, "Who is the Mother?"

There was another nervous pause and I glanced at Libra questioningly. His stony smile and straight glance revealed nothing.

"You?" the voice that answered was meek and the sound of a slap greeted the response.

"No, two steps back." there was shuffling behind me and hardly anyone breathed as the Mother prowled up and down in front of the two who still stood in the center. "Who is the Mother?"

"The leader of the White and Black? The Warrior of the Grey." the answering voice grew more determined as the words came forth and I could imagine the smile that Luna would have shown at the answer.

"Two steps back," The Mother stopped in front of the last person, "What is Ragnarök?" I barely held back my groan, if this kid messed up on the easiest question…

"The Twilight of the Gods," Alright he wasn't stupid.

"Two steps forward," the last boy stepped forward and the two lines of prospective warriors stood four paces apart. The Mother strode forward to stand in front of us, "There is a further definition that we rarely discuss. The White is the path of caution, of questioning. The Black is a path of certainty. If you stepped forward, you were certain of your knowledge no matter if it was true or not. If you stepped back, you were uncertain and questioned what you should know for certain," The Mother pulled a list of paper out of one of the many pockets that decorated her armour, "Today we commence a new part of your training. Some of you are ready for it, others have much yet to learn. If I point you out follow me when I leave, if I do not stay here with Elsk and you will continue your training," Luna's head guard, Elsk, waved from where he'd been standing. She pointed at Libra before pointing at me. I zoned out immediately after I had been selected. Why had I been chosen?

Libra's shoulder knocked me out of my musings again as we followed behind Luna with the other two selected close behind us. Libra and I had been the only two chosen from the front row while the other two had been among those uncertain of their responses.

"You know what this is about?" I whispered to Libra.

"Just the basics, Lupa wouldn't tell me much this morning."

"As if Lupa would know anything. His mind is still clouded by mountain clan nonsense."

"He knew a lot about Ragnarök."

"That's still mountain clan nonsense. They have so much about the flame giants in their version that they barely have time to mention the stars. But, at least he's not spouting off about the cold winter like the Ice Clan. They refuse to accept any Twilight that doesn't involve a cold winter."

"Positives!" Libra's shoulder made contact with mine again and he smiled down at me. I wrapped one of my arms around his waist. I watched one of the Ice clan merchants along the side of the street as she hid the dagger strapped to her waist, did she not realize that the dagger would make us trust her more? Better the enemy whose weapon you see.

"Lupa's stuffed your mind full of nonsense. Positivity doesn't feed Hali."

One of his muscled arms settled upon my shoulder, "Positivity does give you the strength to go hunting though," he pointed out the dagger hidden in a fisherman's boot.

"Hunger seems motivation enough to me," I ignored the sounds of the two trainees behind us faking sick as I pointed out the bow hidden in another fisherman's stack of crates.

"Positivity is motivation when you yourself aren't hungry," Libra beat the bow by gesturing to the sword hidden on the bottom of a rabbit hunter's counter.

"When you're not hungry, you're not doing your job. If you don't need to be hungry, there is no job to be done," Luna had interrupted our debate before it could become the screaming match it was building to, "Welcome to the warrior's docks," Luna gestured around her with a smile, she had reverted back to being Luna now that we had left the scrutiny of the field.

I looked around, the familiar sight of Blood and Bone, Luna's flagship stood proud in front of us. I had never been in the docks before, the warrior's ships had tall masts and flags with easily recognizable sigils that stood out against the horizon but trainees were rarely allowed to see them up close.

The ships towered over the docks. The sea here was deeper than it was near the coastal villages or even by the merchant's docks a few leagues away. The fleet stood still, silent as the warriors of the boat clan assembled behind us. Why had they gathered? I looked at Libra beseechingly but he shrugged as he separated from me. I missed the warmth his side had brought as the cold sea wind brushed against me.

Luna winked with a final smile before the Mother took her place. She stepped forward onto a crate one of her guards had brought for her. She waited as the crowd of warriors grew before she took a breath, "Warriors of my clan!"

The answering roar of cheering took over the docks for a second before Luna's raised hand summoned silence, "Today we have gathered to celebrate a ritual you have all gone through before."

I realized then what this was, I was ready. Now was the time for my trial to see if I was worthy of deciding my path. If I was worthy of becoming a warrior of the boat clan and earning back my name.

"Today these four trainees shall set sail aboard the ship of a warrior for the first time to see if they have what it takes to worship the sea!" I found myself caught up in the cheers. The crowd's frenzy overwhelmed me and I roared until my throat was raw and then roared some more. The others around me did the same. Every warrior of the clan was welcomed this way. Every warrior did the trial and they roared in remembrance.

The Mother called to us again, over the dulling roar, "Prepare your ships!" the crowd departed and the looming ships that once stood still but for the flutter of wind became bustles of motion as the warriors set about preparing them for a voyage.

The Mother came to stand before us once more. She spoke to the other two trainees first, "You two shall serve aboard Wolf Night," the two nodded and smiled at each other before departing. Wolf Night, one of the few ships in the fleet not named after blood. The Mother looked at us, her distain nearly melting for a moment, "You two shall serve aboard Blood and Bone with me."

The grin that lit up my face could have eaten the world.

Libra's shoulder made contact with mine in his typical move, "Smile like that would make a star proud."

I shoulder checked him in return, "Least I can smile."

"Not every smile is a good one!" Libra ruffled my hair.

I glared at him. Nothing would stand in the way of my revenge!

"Hurry Up!" The Mother yelled at us from her position aboard Blood and Bone. We scurried to obey.

It was onboard of that ship with the sea breeze in my hair and Luna and Libra by my side that I realized that I was at peace. Redemption and Vengeance could not be further from my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Edited On: February 19, 2017 
> 
> Original Note:  
> The next chapter is in the works, and it has Mutant Chipmunks!!! Yay for the Finale being later today!  
> Anyways, 2 chapters till Lexa! And some serious branwada goes down next chapter... be excited!  
> Also if you have any names you kinda want to see pop up in Grounders than please tell me, my friends have given me a list but I NEED MOREEEEE! Seriously, canon needs more grounders.
> 
> Ahh! Somebody just pointed this out so here's the translation of the wee bit of dialog:  
> "Hos op Klark, em taim gon yu fos ronplei" means "Hurry up Clarke, it's time for your first hunt".
> 
> Heres some questions people have been asking a lot:
> 
> Will the hundred be coming?  
> Yes, Yes they will. Just because Clarke isn't there doesn't mean that the air problem isn't a problem.
> 
> Will Clarke be friend or foe of the tree clan?  
> Lexa's big shining commander moment pre-canon is that she unites the 12 clans, so yeah Clarke and Lexa will be allies pre-canon... being friendly with each other is a complete other ballgame  
> ~FoM


	4. A Victim and the Healer

As soon as we stepped back into our house Luna's smile returned and the Mother's stain was vanished from our minds. She pulled me into a hug with her one hand curling through the hair on the back of my head and the other rubbing circles up and down my back. I just held her, squeezing to hold on.

Luna pulled back first. Her one hand cherishing my cheek, "I am so proud of you."

I smiled at her, praise from the Mother, even as Luna, was rare, "Thank you."

Her smile was gone again just like that but the fierce narrowing of the eyes was nothing of the Mother's. Luna's eyes stared into mine and demanded my full, most serious attention.

"Clarke," I had forgotten the sound of my name. I looked away from her to relish in it but Luna's hand gripped my chin and forced me to stare into her blue eyes. Eyes that looked like a picture of a supernova from the Ark. Maybe all eyes are exploding stars and each of us carries a bit of Ragnarök within us.

Luna brought me back to attention with another jerk of my chin, "Listen to me Clarke. You are a warrior now," She closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a steadying breath, "You need to know what is involved. What you must do. I need to know that you can do what needs to be done."

I nodded as best I could with my chin held in her hand, "Of course Luna."

"Swear to me that you shall not run."

I looked at her, at the tense nearly anguished look on her face, "I don't think I can do that."

She yanked on my chin again, "Swear to me!"

I looked at her eyes closely, at the way wrinkles were etching themselves underneath her eyes from constant lack of sleep, the way her smiles had left grooves all over her face. I broke then, because I could see my Father in those eyes, "I swear that I will not run."

"Good," she released me. I rubbed the raw skin on my chin. I would have dark bruises the next day.

Luna turned away from me, her steps across the wooden floor of our home creaking the whole house and echoing through the map filled room. Maps covered every surface, including the ceiling. Luna's war council regularly met around our meal table or the fire pit outside. I glanced around, taking in the furs that layered the walls from Luna's past hunts. Braids of the fallen littered one shelf. Hundreds of braids must have laid there. Hundreds dead by the Ice Nation.

Luna went to her room and opened the door. She stared at me expectantly and for the first time I entered her room. It was rather barren with wooden walls covered by more of the furs that littered both my room and the main hall. More than that, it almost lacked the smell of fish that permeated everything else. It smelled like flowers and copper. I looked around, no one had been injured so why did the room smell so much like blood? I looked at Luna but she was just staring at me.

She went over to her desk, it stood on the opposite side of the room facing the door. Her bed lay just behind the desk. She sat down and pointed me to sit in the chair across from her.

"You know of our war with the Ice Nation?" It was a rhetorical question, who could not know of the sun or the earth, "Sometimes our typical raids are not enough. They do not send the right message, or persuade them strongly enough to stop attacking us. Most of our children know this, their parents take them to a display early on. They know the measures we need to take to keep our people safe," Luna reached for some of the maps on her desk and fiddled with them.

"I know you keep prisoners," I could see that this was hard for her but there was no need for so much tension. I expected her to calm down at my reassurance but it just tensed her up further. I decided to persevere, "I know that you trade them in return for our people."

Luna looked at me and I noticed the bags underneath her eyes once more. She seemed tired, more tired than I ever remembered her being before. She stopped fiddling with the maps, "We do not always trade them. War is ugly, Clarke. War is horrid and awful and you need to do everything that you can to make sure that your people are safe," I nodded. This was nothing new, "We do not always capture warriors, Clarke."

"There are only warriors."

Luna shook her head, "I appreciate your view, but that is a limited philosophy. The other clans do not understand war the way we do. The Ice Nation do not train all in the ways of war," her hands reached for the maps again but she stilled them, "They take our children Clarke. They slaughter them and burn them and eat them and rape them and pull them apart. Then they send back the bodies." Suddenly the smell of blood grew stronger. Luna pulled a red soaked package from underneath her desk, "I receive one of these every other day or so."

I stared at the package. Luna cleared her desk with one hand as she placed it in the center. Red liquid pooled at the bottom and leaked onto her desk.

"They mostly send them to me fresh, so the blood still smells but the maggots haven't set in yet. Occasionally there are maggots."

Luna began unwrapping the package. The smell grew worse and I attempted to cover my nose. She took off the rope that bound the cloth covering first. Then the peeled back the blood soaked fabric. I stared at the empty eyes on the head before me. The hacked up hair. The mouth frozen in a scream with all of the teeth missing. The tongue that had been nailed into the head's chin. The nose had been maimed beyond recognition and the ears had been removed completely. I stared at it. The smell made my eyes water. Every other day.

There was a rage building up in me. It had begun with the news of this war, with the families divided on the streets. It had built with every word from Luna and every war party that returned in tatters. Every war party that did not return at all.

Despite the hacked up state of the head in front of me, I could recognize it. The cheekbones and face matched clearly with the warrior trainee that had disappeared a week ago. The empty sockets stared at me accusingly. How could I not protect him? How could I not protect all the people of Hali?

"Why?" I asked Luna as I stared into the black void in front of me.

"Because they can," She had walked around the table and now placed a hand on my shoulder, "Because this is war," together we stayed and stared at the head in front of us. A rumble spread through my stomach and before I knew it I was leaning over to throw up in the pot Luna held out to me. She held back my hair as I emptied my stomach.

"Why?" I asked Luna as soon as my stomach was empty. The smell of rot had begun to replace the blood at this point and I feared it would never leave me.

Luna just placed her hands on either side of my face and kissed me on the forehead, "There are two sides to every war."

I looked at her again. Her face had fallen with her hands and now she stood as the Mother, not Luna. She walked back round her desk to the wall next to her bed. She moved the furs aside and opened the door behind them to reveal a dark stairwell leading down.

"It is time to see the other side," I obeyed her command and followed her down the dark stairwell. When we reached what may have been the bottom I walked into her outstretched hand and waited while she knocked on the door in front of us. It opened quickly into another dark room.

The Mother pulled me into the room, "Remember your oath," the door shut behind me.

"Yes Mother," I stood still as her hand slipped from my grip. Rustling filled the room. I must have been desensitized to the smell by this point for the constant scent of blood wafted through the room and I paid it no mind. Perhaps it was because I had no mind, my mind had left just like the eyes from that man's head.

The darkness of the room was eradicated by the light of the fire Mother had just lit. Warriors I had never seen before stood on either side of the two doors into the room. Along the sides there were numerous tools and weapons all arrayed on shelves on the walls. Occasionally a moan would break through the silence.

"Welcome to Death Row," the Mother stood in front of me, her face a mask of platitude and her eyes dull as a child's family drawing, "This is our side of the war."

She grabbed a cloth wrapped package, this one not soaked, from the unknown guard that handed it to her. Another guard handed her a torch.

"Follow me Clarke. You are a warrior, my little warrior, and you need to know what that means."

I followed her even though half of my brain screamed at me not to. A long dormant part of me told me to run, to get as far away from this monster as I could. Strange that the voice sounded a lot like Abby Griffin.

I followed her through the door into a long hallway filled with metal doors on either side. Occasionally a moan or scream would break through the silence. Our footsteps rung on the stone floor in a parody of movement on the Ark. We passed one door where the inhabitant whispered death threats at us. Other doors where they screamed them at us. I forced my back to remain tall. My shoulders to square up.

Two sides to every war.

The Mother stopped in front of one of the cells. This one made no sound as we stood in front of it though I could hear breathing within when the screams momentarily stopped. She pushed me forward lightly to tell me to open the door. I grabbed the key she had offered over to me and pushed it into the lock. It clinked cleanly when the door was unlocked and I passed the key back before opening the door fully and stepping into the room. Once the Mother stepped in behind me the room was illuminated with the light of her torch.

There must have been twenty people in the room. All of them chained together at the hands and bound by cloth at the mouth. One of them was the Ice Nation trader I had noticed and pointed out to Libra when I passed her in the market. They were all people I had seen before; people I had bought stuff from or passed on the way down the street. Their Ice Nation tattoos and scars clear on their faces for all to see.

The Mother pressed the cloth of the package she'd received from the guard into my hands. I held it in front of me and began to open it.

"Every one of us has to do this. As soon as we are given a sword of our own the first command must be to kill with it. You are my little Warrior. May your sword be true," the Mother dragged the first person forward. The woman stared at her, eyes pleading for a mercy that if given from me would be stripped by another.

I opened the package and therein lay the sword I had been dreaming of for years. My own sword, proof that I was a true warrior.

"Remember the head, Clarke... There are two sides to every war," I nodded at her. The sword fit in my hand perfectly. I swung it a few times experientially.

It barely occurred to me that I was about to kill the green eyed woman in front of me. Perhaps she had done nothing wrong, perhaps she had done something awful. But as the Mother stared into me and melted into Luna with a smile, I knew that the only path for me was forward.

I had been training for this. I knew the dangers of the Ice Nation. The way they invaded our lives and took everything for granted.

My sword slid into her chest before I could fully comprehend the depth of my thoughts and the voice of Abby Griffin could whisper in my head.

I flew through the motions. Each person that the Mother lead in front of me I slaughtered. There was no hesitation past the first, just a single puncture to make it as painless as possible. It was still there in their eyes though. The way they looked at me, calling for answers I did not have.

I started to smile at one point.

I was still slashing at air when the Mother laid her hand on my shoulder and I finally slipped out of the mood I had fallen into. I counted the bodies in front of me as Luna melted out of the Mother and began to comfort me. She whispered the number I already knew into my ear, "Look at you, my little warrior. There was twenty-two of them."

The blood had soaked into me. My hands stained. Tips of my hair red. Splatters across my chest. Finally, I knew why warriors wore black.

I saw Libra on my way out of the hallway. He refused to look me in the eye as Lupa pulled him into the shadows of a room holding a single bound man.

* * *

It would be a lie to say that I slept peacefully after that night. Truthfully there was no such thing as peace. It was all a lie they told you in the sky to keep you calm.

Abby Griffin told me that peace is the absence of war.

The Mother told me that peace is the ignorance of war, for war is the constant.

There are two sides to every war. A winner, a loser or neither.

I believed that this was why I was marked with twenty-two scars upon my back after my first visit to the hallway. The other three warriors all received one, an introduction into a perfunctory lifestyle.

I was the Little Warrior. The Mother had greater plans.

* * *

"Clarke look at me," I looked at him. Libra's hands were halfway through braiding my hair, "You did what was necessary. They were traitors to the…"

"The Mother," the words felt like a curse upon my lips, "The Mother."

"Look at me, don't let your eyes fall," I looked him in the eye. Brown, like his hair and skin. He was a splotch of brown wrapped in armour and served with tea, "You will have to do despicable things. Awful, horrible things-"

"Great pep talk, I think that cliff over there looks nice."

"Don't interrupt me!" He ruffled my hair and ruined the braid, "Anyways, awful, horrible things will be done both to you and by you. That doesn't mean that you're an awful, horrible person."

"Just an awful one?"

"Just an awful one. But if you're not awful then you're not living life right! There are so many people who are going to tell you that you cannot be a good leader and awful. But only awful people make good leaders. You can make the right choices, save more of your people. Sometimes awful people do amazing things. They do the best things that can be done because awful things happen for good reasons."

"And what, only awful, horrible things happen for bad reasons?"

"Yes!"

"Your worldview is messed up."

"So is yours."

"Why do you think we're friends?" Libra and I smiled at each other and turned back to watching the sunset. His hands slid cleanly through my hair as he made new braids and my knife sliced across the wooden block I was turning into art.

I focused on the grooves in the wood, my knife flowing with them. Peeling back the layers to reveal the masterpiece I could see in my mind. It wasn't charcoal but it was still art.

Just as I was about to begin defining more of the shape of the miniature sword I was carving, Libra placed a steadying hand on my shoulder and shushed me. A few feet away from us in the grass on the hill lay a squealing form that had just rolled out from underneath one of the bushes.

"What is that?" Libra asked me in a whisper. I had no idea and shrugged into his hand.

I leaned away from my position between his legs to get a closer look. The creature was small, brownish red in the dusky lighting, "It looks like one of those rodents!"

"Damn things ate my supper last night."

"They're cute!"

He coughed, "Menaces," he coughed again.

"Where's his Mom?" I looked around, normally such a young animal would have a mother close on hand at all moments to protect it. This one was curled up by itself in the grass.

"They don't have parents. They just spawn from the abyss," I reached forward even further to cup it in my hands. The tiny body fit snugly in my palm, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take him home; give him a fighting chance."

I looked back at him. He was smiling, his cheeks nearly covering his eyes.

"What?"

"You're such an awful person!"

I punched him.

* * *

I don't think the fact that the sunset was red with the grey of storm clouds really clicked until I was about to fall asleep and a sense of foreboding filled me.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited On: February 20, 2017
> 
> Original Note:  
> Don't worry, the Ipmu get badass eventually and yes I did make up their name for Trigedasleng, but it's really more like boat people language because the Trikru don't know what Ipmus are... SECRET WEAPON!!!  
> Also Clarke now has an OC crew which is kinda like a pirate crew but their also technically her warriors off the battlefield so yeah... Boat people are confusing sometimes  
> BTW Did you guys see that Finale! I can't wait until Season 3!  
> ~FoM


	5. The Traitor and A Name

Winter formed from fall before I could breath. The leaves fell and the snow fell heavily across the ground, a blanket of white to hide beneath. Seasons had scared me at first, the way the world on the ground could change so quickly and how Luna's clan could respond even faster. It was a world of prediction with spring, summer and fall being a prelude, a preparation for winter.

The snow stirred on the ground as we crested the edge of the hill. The vast sea with its obstacles of floating ice expanded on the horizon before us, in front of us a shape was barely visible through the blinding of the snow.

It was an abandoned village along the coast. Libra and I had been sent to investigate, to find the Ice Nation. Warrior for two years, I had never felt more proud of myself. I was fighting for my side of the war. The winning side of the war. Each Ice Nation warrior who fell to my blade was one less to injure us and one less person in the hallway.

I often dreamed about the hallway. Sometimes the doors were closed. Other times I stared into the faces of the fifty people I had killed down there. Rarely, I was staring into green eyes surrounded by Ice Nation markings as I dug them out of their sockets. The thing about these dreams that bothered me the most was that some of them were not nightmares.

Luna labelled the torture an acceptable loss. Abby Griffin would have agreed. I do not think the Mother would have cared about it either way. She always called things as they were.

It was an abandoned village, the stone paths crusted and hidden by dirt. Some of the buildings had been burnt down, others crumbling. A rare few were still left standing. In the center was the ashy remains of a pyre. Bastards blocked them from ever returning to the sea.

"Here," Libra kneeled next to a patch of dirt and I circled around him, sword drawn. I scanned the trees around us, both above and below. The Ice Nation could be hiding anywhere and you had to be constantly prepared. Libra brushed the dirt away to reveal a flag, the sigil on it unmistakable.

"Ice Nation?"

"They want us to think that," He put the flag in a pocket anyways and stood up, drawing his sword as well.

"House?" I gestured towards the closest standing house and he nodded. I hardly felt we needed to talk about these things anymore. Our actions blended together, triggers leading to automatic responses. We were extensions of each other.

I stepped into the house cleanly, my sword drawn and ready to deal with anything that could harm me. The house was nearly barren, anything of value stripped by the Ice Nation or the Forgotten. I looked behind the four furs that remained on the walls, all revealed blank wood behind them. There was an abandoned set of iron pots thrown across the floor by the door. I nearly tripped over them as I hurried across the room to the locked chest on the other side.

"Libra!"

"Yeah?" He didn't turn from his position guarding the door.

"I've found a locked chest. I'll guard while you open it," I stood at the door, generic bumping coming from behind me as Libra worked on the chest.

"Who were these guys?"

"They were at least wealthy, look at the pots on the floor."

Libra hummed in response before cheering as the lock opened with a click, "I'll guard while you look. Soft hands," He nudged me out of the way with his shoulder to take my position as guard.

I sheathed my sword at my hip before I knelt down in front of the chest and gently lifted the lid. It creaked and groaned with every movement upwards.

"If they didn't know we were here before they sure do now," Libra laughed from his position at the door. I could hear him shifting from foot to foot, he expected an ambush.

I leant the lid against the wall behind the chest before glancing at the treasure contained within. My eyes caught on the leather-bound parchment lying on one side of the chest, "Libra, I think they were readers."

His shifting stopped, "A book?"

"Leather-bound."

"Well shit."

I lifted the book out from the chest. It was heavy, at least two inches thick and the size of my chest. I turned it over, written clearly across the front were the words, "Tales of Ragnarök. Do you think this is…?"

"It must be."

I mirrored Libra's words from earlier, "Well shit."

"We can't let anyone else get their hands on it. Can we bring it back to Hali?"

"It's too large, I can barely hold it myself. I'll take guard, you come look at it," we shifted positions again. I glanced around the outside. The snow on the ground had barely shifted but still, something about the eerie silence of the abandoned town was unnerving.

"This is one of them alright," I heard a thump as Libra dropped his pack, "I'm going to need at least four minutes to repack this. A two-day journey back to Hali by land shouldn't be too hard if you take half my gear and then I take the book."

"Yeah sure, you just want me to carry your bedroll."

"I like having my toes attached."

I continued scanning the town, the wind had picked up a little and was scattering snow across the ground. It was building up to flurries, "Libra we should take cover here before we return. It's starting to storm."

Libra rustled behind me as he reorganized his pack. The silence outside was overbearing. The birds had stopped singing and there was no rustle of wildlife.

It was then that I noticed the short red thread caught in the hinge of the doorway. I picked it up, my awareness faltering as I looked at the thread. I sniffed it. Red dyed by blood. The name of our enemy rolled out of my mouth before I realized that Libra's sounds behind me had stopped, "The Forgotten."

"Hello."

I spun around, stepping to the side to place my back to the wall instead of the open door. It was one of them, knife wrapped in red cloth tucked under Libra's chin. My grip on my sword tightened. I could hear rustling now in the trees outside. More of them.

"You will put the sword down."

Male by the sound of the voice, young. Recently indoctrinated. There was a chance to save him, to pull him back into memory, "You don't have to do this."

"Blood must have blood."

The boy was a blank slate. His positioning covered by the black wrappings of the forgotten. Libra was less so. He stared at her, eyes cold. They had discussed this very situation a year before prior to taking on an Ice Nation war party. The players had changed but Libra's plea for her action had not.

I took a deep breath, "I am Clarke of the Boat Clan, second of the Mother. Know that you died to a worthy opponent," I struck first, dagger slipping out of its sheath by my side, spinning through the air before the Forgotten's shaking hands could still. The knife hit true, sliding into his eye.

I looked at him then, at the boy beneath the wraithlike cloth that swallowed him. He was younger than us, childhood indulgence still clear across his face.

"You can't save them all," Libra had risen to stand behind her, his hand on her shoulder once more.

"I can try."

He chuckled, punching me lightly in the back. He went over to pick up his recently enlarged pack, "You'll kill yourself trying."

I smiled at him and took the heavy bedroll he handed me without reaction, "Someone has to. If not me-"

"Then someone else," I glared at Libra. He just rolled his eyes at me in return, "I know. We should be going soon. I don't want to stay here."

"There might be more of them outside."

We exchanged a heavy glance. His pack slipped from his shoulders and he lowered it to the ground with one arm. I did the same, lowering the pack to the ground with two arms before unsheathing my sword. I picked up my knife from where it had been embedded in the Forgotten's eye. Our black armour was readjusted and straps tightened. My hands stilled their pre-battle shaking.

Libra toed open the door. The wind had closed it in the midst of our encounter with the Forgotten and now as he opened it gusts of snow blew into the room. We couldn't see more than a meter outside of the door.

We set up our camp in the house with the dead body lying between us. I don't think either of us minded to move him.

I was on the edge of sleep, Libra was at guard, when a noise from the man drew me to his side.

"What is it?"

He had the book open on his lap. Treason written on parchment. The writing was neater than I expected. Organized and repetitive scribbles.

"What did you find?"

I looked closer, the story at the top of the page told of frost giants. I knew Libra couldn't read but his eyes were caught on the picture held in a border of red, blues and golds. It was a man made of ice, eyes blue with a glow about them.

"Who is that?"

"A Frost Giant," Libra's hand lay on the page, "Can you read it to me?"

"It's treason," I was already moving to lift the book from his lap and place it on mine. Sleep could wait.

"I know."

My hands ran over the page. Parchment was foreign asides from special field orders from the Mother and those orders had to be burned upon memorization. It was a foreign feeling, smooth yet rough.

My eyes settled on the first word. I opened my mouth to say it but my throat caught on the words. Could I betray the Mother? I looked at Libra. He had seen the hesitation, and knew the answer.

He lifted the book off my lap and continued leafing through it to look at the pictures. I returned to my bed roll and forced sleep to wash over me.

* * *

I woke up at midnight to Libra shaking me awake. His finger settled on my lips as he signaled for quiet. I nodded and he moved away, staying low to distribute his wait and not creak the floorboards.

I grabbed my sword. We were already armoured, even in sleep protection was necessary. Uncomfortable as it may have been. I crouched with him. Both of us on either side of the door as the footsteps outside approached. There were two sets, timed to fall in the space between each other.

The door burst open and nearly hit me in the face.

"Mom! Dad!" the two children were bundled in thick furs to protect from the cold of the Northern coast. A boy and a girl with identical dark hair and short postures. Both had stout, hardy boat clan builds, but the short statues indicated they were no more than eight winters old. Their only difference was the length of the girl's hair and the shrillness of her voice.

They noticed the boy in the center of the room first. The girl threw up on the corpse's feet, it was more bile that food.

"This was your house," Libra loomed out of the shadows, his voice seeming to echo through the room.

The children screamed and the boy pushed the girl behind him. He drew a thin dagger, "Stay back!"

I decided to intervene, these were children of the sea. Libra would see them treated as traitors. I walked out from behind the door, raising my hands to show I held no weapons, "I am a warrior of the Mother, like your parents. We were unaware that people still lived in this village."

The girl shoved her brother back, "Where are our parents?"

I shook my head. I was tempted to crouch down to be on eye level with the children but they would see it as weakness or pity, "I do not know," I realized that Libra was still creeping in the darkness behind her, "Libra get out here."

He crept forward sheepishly and stood behind me with a hand gripping my shoulder. He waved with his other hand, "Hello children of the sea."

The two recoiled as if struck. The boy spoke, "We're not sea children!"

I reached towards them, gauntlet clad hand open in friendship, "Libra here didn't mean that your parents were… gone… just that you are fellow members of the Boat Clan. If you told us your names…"

The girl stepped forward, her chest out proudly now that her parents were simply missing and not gone, "I'm Brenna!" She pushed her brother forward.

"Bevin…" He seemed scared of them.

"I am Clarke of the Boat Clan, second to the Mother. Do you wish to return to Hali with us? It will be easier to raise a search party to find your parents if we ask the Mother directly," There would be no search party. Their parents were dead. If they were alive the book proved that they were dead in heart and traitorous in action.

The two looked at each other. Hesitatingly each one would open their mouth to speak before the other would interrupt them.

I looked at Libra and smiled. The two of us had done the same thing many times over the last two years.

"We will go with you," Brenna spoke for them both.

"Good!" I clapped my gauntlet clad hands together, "Let Libra and I pack up and then we will return to Hali."

* * *

Winter melted into spring with rain. The streets flooded, sewage freed from drains and the ground pummeled into mud.

I loved Spring. It unearthed new smells as it temporarily washed out the fish. The world smelt of dirt, trees and flowers. With spring came growth for the small rodent I had rescued from that hilltop with Libra. In the winter he'd spent with me since being on that hill in the fall, the rascal had grown a personality. He pestered me to wake up every morning and did not understand the meaning of boundaries. He got in frequent arguments with the other animals in the area and had developed a serious dislike for birds.

His temporary name was Rascal for I hadn't thought of anything that truly fit with him. That and he'd hissed at every name I'd offered so far.

I was in the middle of rubbing his belly in the forest just beyond the district where Luna's house was when I heard it. It was a war horn that made a sound I had heard before. It was deeper than normal and had a raspy undercurrent that sent shivers up my arms. I put Rascal in one of the many large pockets around the waist of my armour. He curled up there, barely the size of two of my hands. I pat him absentmindedly.

The horn was the sound of vengeance. Someone was to be punished and all on duty warriors had to be present for the show. I walked, no one would run to answer the call of vengeance. Nobody wanted to be the one it called for next.

My footsteps started crunching on the stone and sand that made up the streets of Hali as I joined the line of warriors marching forwards towards the origin of the horns. The Arena. It was an ancient building from before the last big Ragnarök. A remnant of the world before rebirth

I could feel the noose of dread tightening around my throat, the stool of lies underneath me ready to be kicked.

Libra would be there, in the arena. We watched the executions together, they were a bloody affair and required a strong friend to stand beside. Luna would be there as well, the knife that ended the violence. I should stand beside her, show my support for her regime but the reality of the Hallway was different from the show in the arena.

It was full of falsehood, fabricated stories to make traitors into maniacs and thieves. I accepted the lies, treason was a greater crime than all others. It was the showboating that I hated. The speeches people made to denounce them. The words that were carved into the traitor's skin, the apologies they ripped from beaten faces.

It was intoxicating, an atmosphere full of hatred and vengeance centered on a foe that was punished for it.

Already, walking in the line the aura of fear and dread was fading beneath a rising sea of hatred for the one who dared to affront the Mother. The traitor who would dare rally against the Mother. Who would betray the founding beliefs of our clan.

The line thickened as more and more warriors joined it. There were even some craftsmen and foreigners among the processors. The crafters joined to honour our shared leader and the foreigners probably had no idea the meaning the horn held. They were certainly in for a surprise. The Southern clans did not comprehend the meaning behind our ceremonies. They called us barbaric, monstrous. Cowards.

As we neared the arena the roars of the festering crowd could be heard growing through the streets. It was nearly time for a warrior ceremony and the warriors had returned from their postings at sea. The crowd was full, the arena packed with every seat being claimed by the time I made it through the doors.

I was grabbed by one of the guards inside, their hand tightly gripping my arm. I tried to dislodge him, "What do you want?"

He pulled me forwards without words. He pushed people forcibly out of our way. His skull helmet revealing nothing to those who responded with outrage. Finally, when we were free from the worst of the rushing crowds in one of the many service tunnels around the arena he turned to me and spoke, "The Mother has summoned you."

I nodded, the Mother did not summon you for nothing, "I know the way."

I started to walk down the hall towards the balcony from which the Mother usually watched the ceremony. I was stopped at the third step by the guard's hand gently pulling on my shoulder. I turned to face him, eyebrow raised.

"You're going the wrong way."

I frowned, the Mother had never watched the ceremony from anywhere other than the balcony in the fifteen executions I'd seen. I allowed the guard to lead me down through the hallways built into the side of the arena, quickly a light appeared at the end of one and the guard stepped to the side allowing me to pass. I nodded at him and approached the light, the roar of the crowd growing louder with every step.

The hallway led into the center of the arena, an elevated platform had been raised for the execution. I couldn't see who was tied to the pole in the center but the Mother's set jaw spoke of someone important. I did not know why she wanted me up there with her, nor truly why she was up there. The traitor must have served her, been someone under her direct command. I did not have to shove through the enraged crowd to approach the platform for the crowd moved itself out of my way. The blue cloth hanging loosely from my wolf skull pauldron made it easy to distinguish my ranking. I would never wear it outside of Hali, too clear a marking for enemies.

I stalked forward, shoulders bowed by the unseen weight resting on them. I stepped upwards on the stairway to destiny with slow, beating steps that were drowned out by the screams of rage around me. What a sound this must have been to the unknowing foreigners who did not follow the warriors into the arena.

When I cleared the platform I could clearly saw the ceremonial post and the familiar man with dark brown hair atop his head. His brown eyes stared at me. His solemn face was marked in my memory forever. My steps pulled me towards him unwillingly, every foot a slap in the face from destiny. His hands were tied firmly above his head and his armour had been removed. He looked barer than I had ever seen him.

The Mother stood beside him, sword drawn and face blank. They'd been waiting for me to complete the ceremony.

My knees nearly gave out but I pushed forward, the Rascal stirring in his pocket, he placed a little paw on my hand when it passed near him.

"Clarke," The Mother's command rung through me and stilled the roars of the crowd. I could feel their eyes digging into my skin.

I didn't want to move forward. My feet dragged across the wood of the platform. I did not want this to be happening. I wanted to be on another hill with his hands running through my hair, or investigating another village with him guarding my back.

This couldn't be him; he was not tied to the post. Except I knew it was him, I saw it in every part of his face. The Libra I'd known would not have committed treason. He wouldn't have betrayed the Mother. This wasn't the Libra I knew.

Libra wouldn't have abandoned me. He wouldn't have hurt me. He was kind, friendly. He was unlike any other warrior I had ever known. He was not going to leave me.

He was not going to force me to kill him like I killed those in the hallway. He would not have my knife drag across his skin.

The Mother asked me to come forward, to present myself for the killing. She asked over and over until I did it. My legs carried me forth until I stood before her. Her eyes were empty of anything resembling emotion. I saw myself reflected in those eyes. My face had fallen and with it all hopes that Libra would survive.

The traitor was not Libra. It was never Libra. The empty shell covered in brown was not my best friend. I refused to let it be. I repeated that until I stared unto brown eyes and saw green. I stared at him and all I could see was Abby Griffin smiling at me through the glass as my Father flew out an airlock. I looked at him and all I could see was Wells hiding behind his Father's pants. I looked at him and all I could see was the Ice Nation.

The Mother looked at me and twitched her lips in a sad smile that was full of Luna as she placed a tender hand on my shoulder before stepping around me to face the crowd. She paced in front of Libra as the crowd roared obscenities at him.

Her hands rose before she yelled, "My warriors!" a roar answered her, "The traitor behind me has committed treason of the highest sort. He and his Ice Nation brethren attempted to attack me while I was on a hunt in the woods," another roar. Some lifted swords into the air, "He has killed seven of my guards, including my dear, dear guard captain," more swords lifted into the air. Some threw stones to land at her feet, "In return for the blood he spilt I call for his own. For treason I call the pain of seven deaths upon him. Clarke step forward."

The sound of the crowd had overwhelmed reason. Swords were lifted, numerous chants were starting. Voices were cracking from the strain of yelling.

I stood before the Mother and drew my dagger. It rested across my palms as I kneeled before her, raising the knife over my head. She would bless it before I began the slaughter. Protect me from karmic reaction. I was to kill my friend for as an associate of the traitor I had the potential to be the next. I had to be complicit in the punishment so I would fear the crime.

I was not there in the moment. My free thoughts had scurried out of my mind and my perception changed. I was not there, the Mother was not there and I was not standing in the city of Hali. I did not know the empty shell in front of me. I was but a loyal warrior killing a traitor who tried to kill her leader. That was all.

I was not there.

I was not there.

I was not about to dole out the most painful death imaginable upon the man I could have called a brother.

The Mother lifted my knife out of my hands. She spun it in thought. She tested its weight. She pulled out her own, Diana. I had seen it a thousand times before but never did I know its purpose until now. It was a jagged, serrated knife. The most brutal knife imaginable. A brutal knife for a brutal death. The Mother sheathed my knife away and laid Diana upon my open hands.

"I, Luna, Mother of White and Black declare this knife the weapon of godly vengeance. May it slice well and true."

The blade was cold on my skin. I gripped it in one hand as I turned and walked towards the defeated man in front of me. He was not Libra. The pain I felt building throughout my chest was not for him.

Diana cut into the skin on his upper arm and the blood was the only indicator that the shell before me was a man.

"Do you wish to say anything before the end?" I asked him, my tone colder than ice.

He stared straight forward, his jaw set. My eyes burned. I tried not to see him in there but I couldn't help it. I had been the one to shave his beard two days ago, before the hunt that had dealt him death.

Diana cut into his skin again. Blood dribbles down his abdomen and his eyes remain empty. Clear.

I falter on the third cut, my arm locking before I've pushed the dagger into his skin. Luna gripped my arm and guided me into the cut. The Mother had melted beneath a sad smile. It was warm, unlike the cold that had set into the tips of my fingers. My lips are drawn up in a smile that mirrored hers. If the Mother could smile I would smile too.

I could remember making a promise to Abby Griffin. She had smiled when she sentenced the man she loved to die. Luna guides my hand into a deep cut across Libra's abdomen and I smile. Maybe Abby had something to teach me after all. Wells flashed through my mind again as I drew the knife across his skin a fourth time.

I wondered in the part of my brain that still functioned as separate as I had become from reality how I grew to trust a man as much as I once did Wells.

I felt a rush of anger when I made the fifth cut across his left forearm. He was a liar. He had lied to my face over and over again when he had sworn against the Ice Nation. He was the enemy.

Just like Wells, Abby, and the rest of the Ark.

The sixth cut drew deep across his skin and Libra screamed at last. His blood splattered across my face. It landed upon my smile, upon my teeth and in my hair. It stained my skin. It coloured my hands.

I turned to the crowd briefly, an after note in my mind. I looked at them with blood splattered across my face and they cheered. They cheered for Abby Griffin's smile.

I turned to them, blood dripping from Diana to the platform. My hand lifted to the air in a fist, "Blood must have blood!" They echoed my cry. It pounded through the clearing till the ground seemed to breath it.

I turned back to the traitor that had once been Libra. The knife came down onto his skin. Again and again I dragged the knife across his skin. All thoughts of peace, of the hilltop left my mind.

I still only when the Mother's hand stops me. The sky had changed from dusk to dawn. The screams had rung through the town for days. The arena had emptied and filled again, they stared at me expectantly.

My arms burned from the exertion. Hours had felt like seconds. I had seen the terrified faces of Brenna and Bevin in the crowd. Their eyes lingered on the blood splattered smile that dominated my face.

The ground was soaked in Libra's blood. I cut him down, the ropes had been the only thing keeping him up. His cuts had been cauterized and reopened a hundred times. He was all but dead already.

The Mother stepped back. She would let us have this final goodbye. I knelt down and lifted him onto my lap. The blood that pooled there was of no mind for someone who's clothing was already soaked.

His voice was strained, broken by the screams. He spoke softly, "They slaughtered my village, butchered my Mother and sister," even in his final moments all he spoke of was treachery, "It's in the book Clarke. The truth is in the book."

He had betrayed me. He could read the whole time along and the book I had helped him retrieve was part of his treachery. When he had asked me to read to him he was testing my loyalty. He was a traitor, rotten to the core.

He had stopped being my friend the moment he attempted to kill the Mother. Libra looks at me, eyes alive even though sound had left him. I stared down at them, seas of traitorous brown.

The words slipped from me easily, "The truth is in the Mother."

His eyes closed, a grimace. He died with a grimace on his face as he realized that my loyalty belonged to the Mother. It belonged to the woman who's smile melted her into Luna.

I watch as his breathing stops. I shoved him off my lap. My clothes were soaked in his blood. The stains comforted me, he was a liar.

I fell into Luna's hug when she stepped forward. The arena had been cleared of everyone but us and her guards. I tried to rediscover tears so I could shed them. There were none left. Luna held me firmly with one hand cradling my head and the other rubbing circles on my blood soaked back.

The coppery scent of blood nearly made me gag. The Hallway and it's nightmares was all that kept the bile down.

I should have been sobbing. Libra should have been there with a smile to make the pain disappear.

My Father's face flashed before my eyes before I could force it away. I stared at the memory of him. The wrinkles were becoming less distinct and I could barely remember the shade of his hair. His mouth had nearly vanished. The shape of his nose was blending into Lunas. All that remained certain was the colour of his eyes for I saw it every time I looked into Luna's. They were not the same.

I remember the rascal then as he squirms out of the pocket I'd placed him in and climbs up my body to nuzzle into me. He was looking for food.

I knew his name then as my friend lay dead behind me and Luna's arms sheltered me from fear.

"How's Delos for a name?" I asked him. Luna's head tilted into mine.

Delos stops nuzzling for a few seconds before resuming. I smiled.

When Luna spoke for the first time since the Mother had certified Libra's death, I knew that his betrayal had broken something in her just as it had broken me. She could not cry, nor show overt weakness but underneath the bravado lay a hurt that run through her just as hatred lay through mine.

"The resting place of fallen stars," she drew out every word, testing out the syllables.

I looked at her smile then. I could nearly forget that my best friend had tried to murder her. I could almost forget the lives I'd taken and the pain I'd caused.

I could almost forget Abby Griffin's smile as the chancellor opened the airlock and sent my Father to his death.

When Luna leans down and kisses my forehead and I forget it all. All the worries, all the thoughts of the Ark, all of the pain. Everything that I was, was gone. Everything but my love for her and my loyalty to the Mother. It was because Luna was there and she loved me no matter how atrocious the acts I committed were. She loved me and would never lie. She would not betray me.

It was in Luna's embrace that I had a revelation. I thought back to her question all those years earlier when I fell from the sky. I thought of the question every warrior was asked.

"I don't want to live for vengeance or redemption."

"Neither do I."

* * *

I was swept up by a sea of motion. Barely had the words left Luna's mouth before we had departed. I could barely walk on my own but I forced my shoulders back to show no weakness to the foreigners that dwelt in Hali's streets. We reached the warriors docks and boarded Blood and Bone. The warriors were already there and I sat there empty as Luna instructed her warriors. She was not the Mother for a smile still dwelt on her face.

We sailed until the sun had reached the middle of the sky.

"Little warrior?" Luna prodded me out of the trance I had fallen into.

I looked at her and she pulled me to my feet.

"What we are about to do will remain a secret between us, yes?"

"Yes."

"Good, follow," She led the way off the ship and onto the Rig. It was aa pre-Ragnarök structure in the middle of the ocean. Water surrounded us far as could see and it was the perfect meeting for negotiations. Often enemies would be brought out here where their armies could not attack Hali.

I followed her around the Rig, greeting the diplomats we saw along the way. We descended down more stairs then I ever thought could have existed before we arrived in another hallway. This one had only one door at the end of it. The door was currently open and within I could see a fountain.

We walked forward, Luna's steps slow and ceremonial. Each footfall echoing the importance of what we were about to do.

We entered the room. The fountain in the center was of a black liquid, darker and thicker than any I had seen before.

Luna gestured to the fountain. It was roughly the size of the average human in height and half that in width. At the far end of it more black liquid slowly spilled into it from a gap in the wall. I looked back at her but she just gestured again.

"Get in little warrior," I began to remove my blood soaked armour but she shook her head. I frowned, it had grown extremely uncomfortable but still when I tried again she shook her hand and gestured at the fountain.

I stepped in. It smelt worse than fish ever could.

It was thicker than blood, clotted and viscous. My second foot joined the first. It was pooling in my boots. I lay down in the fountain, the liquid sinking into my clothing past the barrier of blood.

I braced my hands against the bottom to keep my face out of the liquid. It did not seem healthy to swallow or inhale.

The Mother knelt behind me and held my face in her hands.

"Clarke of the Boat Clan, do you know the vow of Black?"

I nearly gasped. There had not been a warrior of black aside from the Mother in recent history. I shook my head, there was no need for them to teach it to people who would not need to know it.

"Repeat after me.

I am the blade of Black."

"I am the blade of Black."

"I am the dusk of night."

"I am the dusk of night."

"I am the shield of shadow."

"I am the shield of shadow."

"I am the darkness."

"I am the darkness."

"Welcome to the Black," I made to respond but my face was being forced under the liquid.

I was swallowed by the Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited On: Feb 25, 2017
> 
>  
> 
> Original Note:  
> Don't worry, next chapter contains Lexa!  
> I'm sorry if it seems over exaggerated how long Libra lasts against the torture but I think Luna would have burned the wounds closed after they had bled a bit and Clarke wouldn't really have picked up on it because she was so focused on slicing Libra apart.  
> Also, the Ipmu is a chipmunk, and some of you managed to convince me that wolves and chipmunks could make great friends... so there might just be a mutant wolf joining the family.  
> ~FoM


	6. The Mother and Her Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited On: March 2, 2017
> 
> Original Note:  
> Now that were out of the past and into this story's actually timeline, everything's going to be in 3rd person

"The Commander has landed." Clarke looked up at the guard standing in the hallway. She glared at him, elbows splattered in the black blood of the corpse she'd just cut open.

"Delay her. Show her the prosperity of Hali," the guard nodded. Clarke glanced back down at the corpse whose chest she'd just opened. He had not been a corpse for long. The body was still

"The Commander has landed." Clarke looked up at the guard standing in the hallway. She glared at him, elbows splattered in the black blood of the corpse she'd just cut open.

"Delay her. Show her the prosperity of Hali," the guard nodded. Clarke glanced back down at the corpse whose chest she'd just opened. He had not been a corpse for long. The body was still cooling and Clarke took the time to examine his internal organs. She cracked open his ribs first, breaking them so she had a clear opening to see his lungs. The rot was just beginning to form on the surface.

She could hear my second, Bevin, trying to quell his nausea behind her. He was fearing far worse than his sister, Brenna, had when she was the one who recorded Clarke's observations.

"It's spreading," She looked at the marks of the sun's passing they'd made on the wall, "5 hours. Tell Lupe that he's doing a good job."

"Lupe?"

Clarke rolled her eyes. The kid needed to learn to respect his superiors, "Lupa."

He hummed, she could hear the scratch of charcoal as he wrote in the language she'd been teaching him. He could only know a few words but Clarke still found it a relief to read once more. She stared at him, blood still splattered up her arms.

"What?"

"Go!" He scurried off, tail between his legs.

Clarke turned back to the corpse in front of her. She removed the lungs, carefully separating them and then placing them in wooden trays. Lupe refused to look at anything he could tell was once in a human body. Idiot.

The lungs removed she could look more closely at the real prize, the heart. She could barely contain her glee.

"The heart of a Nightblood," Clarke looked up at Luna. She stood proudly in the doorway, her grey ceremonial garbs already on.

"I never expected I would get to hold one," She picked the heart up in her hand and squeezed it. It was still warm to the touch.

"Come on, we have a Commander to see."

"The body will get cold."

"But it will still be there. You need to get ready," Clarke sighed and placed the heart in another wooden tray. She quickly reached up to underneath the corpse's chin and cut off the meat. She placed it in my pocket for later. She stood and whipped her hands off on her equally filthy legs before joining Luna at the door.

Clarke was about to pass Luna when she stopped her not with an arm but with her voice, "Clarke?"

"Yes?"

"Leave the blood on your face."

"Yes Mother," She smiled, the black blood splattered across her face. She could hear the Mother shouting out orders at the guards as she departed down the hallway towards the stairs.

She could hear Bevin rushing down the hallway to return to her side. She tripped him as he attempted to get even with her, his own momentum carried him a few feet before he landed on the floor in front of her.

"What did I tell you?"

"Don't run in the Hallway."

"And?" She glared at him as he attempted to stand.

"Be quiet."

"Good," She reached forward and pulled him to his feet. It was a good thing the boy had not yet grown larger than her, then she wouldn't be able to pull him up nearly as easily. She patted him on the shoulder once he was on his feet and pulled him along to walk the hallway with her. She could still hear his steps but it was an improvement.

"Lupa said that he will work on another treatment to be used tonight, says it should be only three hours this time."

"Lupe."

He glared at her, "Don't tell me you didn't call him the same! Stupid Blue Cliff infringing on our territory."

She looked at him, eyes scanning his young face. He had many battles ahead of him.

"Don't look at me like that."

She grinned at him, "Then you shouldn't say dumb things. I always showed respect to my elders. You should learn well from my example."

"Yes, I'll just go off and kill a couple villages then. Be back at dusk."

She stopped. That could not be allowed to continue. When he turned to look at her, her fist slammed into his face. He winced back, clutching his cheekbone. She pushed him over onto the ground again. The stone beneath him a friend as dirt had been hers. She stared at him as he touched the bruise before looking up at her. She sneered. The child did not understand. She had hoped that training him in the Hallway would introduce him to reality. She had been wrong.

Clarke stood over him, her stance guarded in case he should try to resist her teaching.

"Do you understand what you have said?" She waited for his answer. He refused to look her in the eye, "You have insulted not only me but those I have killed. Who taught you this was acceptable?" Once again he did not speak and so she stepped on his knee, applying pressure to the joint, "Who taught you this was acceptable?"

He held on for a few seconds before breaking, he knew that this was tame compared to what she would do if he did not respond again, "Brenna. She said you had a sense of humor. That the Ice bastards killed our parents."

"I do not know what the Traitor taught you while you were his student. I do not know what Lupe taught you while you were his. However, if you ever disgrace the dead again… If you ever speak lightly of me again… If you ever make noise in this hallway again…"

He nodded. Clarke released him. They walked the rest of the hallway with him silently two steps behind her. He needed to learn that duty came before humor. He needed to learn that humor was a façade, not an existence.

When they emerged from the Hallway into the room of terrors with its torture utensils and weapons along the wall, she turned to the silenced guard nearest her and gestured at her second, "Train him until he understands the meaning of silent strength. Return him to me only when he does."

The guard nodded and Bevin looked at her terrified until the guard succeeded in dragging him away to select the weapons they would train with. The silenced guard would teach him the meaning of true strength. A strength that required no words for these guards had surrendered theirs when they refused the call of the Black.

Clarke nodded at the other three before climbing the stairs that led into Luna's room in our house. She exited the door and entered her own room on the opposite side of the hall.

Delos greeted her as soon as she entered. Fierce twenty-pound body with razor sharp jagged teeth, Delos had grown into his own. He was a creature unlike any other, full of strength and cunning that Clarke rewarded heartily. She grabbed the piece of meat she'd cut off earlier and fed it to him. His resistance to Lupe's poison would erase any risk of it killing him. At worst he'd be a little woozy for the next hour which would be convenient for meeting the commander.

Clarke took off my blood soaked shirt, her sore left arm crying out in protest as she moved. The ink on her latest tattoo had yet to settle beneath the surface. The others, the markings of the Boat Clan, the Black and her other achievements had already stilled but the red skin surrounding where the bone needle had dragged underneath her skin to form her fourth mark of achievement still hurt from three days ago.

Her first had been for exterminating a whole Ice Nation Village near the border with only two other warriors. She had been the only one to make it out alive. This most recent one was for her five hundredth kill. Luna said she would give me another one for my thousandth. Occasionally I doubted I would live that long. That she had survived this long without a successful assassination attempt or failed attack was surprising to those who did not know her determination. That she was able to accumulate so many kills so quickly was partially due to her occupation, she was the judge, jury and executioner of the Hallway after all. It was not just Ice Nation warriors who ended up within the walls.

She touched the maddened skin of the swirling layers of waves on her arm gingerly. On her right arm was the mark of the Mother. To show that Clarke served her, that her will was Clarke's own. It was two white bones crossed and cracking, black blood seeping down to lay on the shadow of a black blade. It was a frightening thing, rugged and poorly done. They had been attacked halfway through the marking and Clarke had walking into battle with a needle still in her arm and wielding her sword left handed. Truly not an experience she wished to repeat.

Clarke donned the black armour of a warrior of the Black. It was more functional than ceremonial, lacking the embellishment of Luna's captains. It had a hood on the back that Delos quickly snuggled into to claim as his own. He had outgrown the pouches around her waist but she had readily adapted to the increased weight on her neck and back. It was easier to carry him though when she was wearing her pack. Across her chest lay numerous pouches filled with Lupe's concoctions. Any poison or illness he had access to dwelt there, tightly sealed in stoppered flasks that were then bound in tight leather to avoid leakage. Two knives hung from her belt, Diana which Luna had allowed her to keep and her original knife which she had used to skin her first rabbit. A shorter sword was tied across her back, unhelpful for navigating bushy terrain but for on board a ship or while in town it was a handy reminder of her fighting prowess to any who challenged her. It would normally have been across her back or on her hip but for the other two swords she carried for the meeting.

The final two blades she carried she would never actually bring into combat. One she had received just that morning and was perched on top of the short sword. It was shorter than her normal blade but carved out of a stained blue glass. It would not survive contact with another sword but for the ritual Luna had planned it would suffice.

The other blade was forged from a special metal only the most experienced craftsmen of the Blue Cliff Clan knew how to handle. It was the gift Luna bestowed upon her for becoming part of the black. The large, hefty blade was beautifully balanced but Clarke feared she would lose it if she brought it into battle with her as she had done her short sword. She had lost it twice already and Luna seemed reluctant to let her replace it many more times.

She had a bow that she would bring with her out of Hali but inside the city with the guards standing by there was no need for it, she could throw one of the disposable knives in the pocket on her leg well enough to make up for it.

The most noticeable feature of her armour were her gauntlets. One was made of more black metal with sharpened fingers in claws and sharp ridges running along the surface to her elbow. The other gauntlet was flat, made of brighter but still dull fragments that covered each of her fingers. The purpose of the sharpened gauntlet on her left hand was to punch and attack those she couldn't reach with the sword.

Clarke smiled as she buckled up the straps on her armour before reaching for the skull that set her apart from Luna's other guards. Most wore the skulls of wolves, Clarke's was the cracked top half of a humans, held in place at the back of her head by more leather straps. Her face hadn't fit the skull so Lupe had broken it into pieces and then bound them together with pieces of wire. It left the bottom of her face clear so her enemies could see the smile. Delos abandoned her hood to plod along the ground beside her, he had gotten faster as he increased in size. Fast enough to keep pace with a fast walk, his sprint a human's jog.

Clarke tightened the broken larger half of Libra's skull over her own face, before throwing up her hood and departing her home.

She hardly noticed that those she passed on the street stayed far out of her way. She ignored the children that were shoved behind their protective mothers. Her eyes searched for concealed weapons, the daggers in people's boots. The bows leaned up behind carts. Her game thrilled her far more than the fear of others. With her mask off Clarke passed as a normal human, undifferentiated from the others in the Hallway. Dressed as a Warrior of Black, Clarke represented a thought others of the clan would rather avoid.

She walked through the streets briskly but contentedly. She could have taken the faster route through the Hallway that ran between Luna's house and the Throne room but alas she enjoyed the fear. It reminded her of why she existed. She was the face of fear, the very fabric of fear for if there was nothing to fear then there was nothing to respect. Kindness was a fickle material that did nothing without fear.

Fear was the cut that kindness soothed.

The Throne of Hali had stood as it was for every Mother. It was a carved thing, made of granite and adorned by bones. Every Mother added to it, one had placed compartments in the stone to store vital documents for reference. Another had built the room around it. It was a solid room to cement the solidity of the throne. Built of stone blocks held together by a mixture of unknown origin. Perhaps it was known to Lupe or others with an interest but to Clarke it represented only strength. The large hall held pillars at the front, four of them with two on either side of the doors. They were fashioned after the ones of the old world. An attempt to reclaim the earth scorching strength of the ancestors. Clarke strode between the pillars, the guards placed in front of them raising their hands in salute.

She pushed open the doors, hands placed squarely on each handle. They were old wood, from the unaltered forests outside Hali. The same kind the boats were made from. Clarke stepped within, the sound absorbed by the firm stone beneath her feet.

The Commander may have her tower, but the Mother's Hall was a masterpiece. The finest pieces of skull art lay along the sides of the hall, most made by craftsmen from Hali. Clarke's favourite was of a wolf sitting at attention, jaw grinning in the bone mold. The art was something that escaped her but it involved grinding bone down to a dust and then solidifying it with yet another mysterious mixture. Other pieces were made with unground bones reattached to each other or reformed into dramatic pieces of wood and stone. Many other forms of the art existed, and the Mother's Hall contained examples of most. The other clans did not have time for art, it was not survival to them. Most of the time the boat clan did not either, it was in times of glory that the art had been made. It was there in the Mother's Hall to remind all who entered that such glory would come again.

Clarke walked down the hall towards the Mother. She sat in her chair, straight-backed. Her hands were placed perfectly on her knees, all hints of joy removed from her face. This meeting was of two great powers, the recognized sovereigns of belief and spirituality.

Clarke knelt before the Mother, one arm bowed as the other drew out the blue cape that lead from the skull on her shoulder to the black gauntlet on her hand. It was the only marker on her armour that this was a special occasion.

"Rise, Clarke of the Black," The Mother summoned her. Behind her Clarke could hear the horn of the Commander's arrival. One of the guards was sure to have sounded it.

She walked behind the Mother to stand on the raised granite next to the throne. It had been an addition by a Mother far before Luna. One stood on either side and called for the senior warrior of the orders of White and Black to stand on either one. Clarke stood on one side of the Mother, her black gauntlet resting on her shoulder.

The other side was occupied by a warrior Clarke had often seen but never talked to. His tall statue was marked by tightly drawn shoulders and a thick frame. He wore the standard armouring of the boat clan, except his furs were white and he had painted the sigil of the Ice Nation on it instead of that of the Boat Clan. He was a firm reminder of the trade Luna had made but two months before. Clarke did not understand the purpose of trading the next Mother for a second rate warrior of the White from the Ice Nation. The Queen was certain to whisper treason in her ear, poor Brenna.

Clarke's vision was drawn to the door as it was opened by the two guards on the innermost pillars. The Commander walked in at the head of the procession. She was shorter than expected, less armed than any intelligent warrior should be. Clarke was underwhelmed. The look in her eye, of molded steel was new. It was a look unlike any other Clarke had seen, it lacked the emptiness of the Mother and Libra's. It lacked joy, flamboyance. Clarke re-examined the weapons the Commander held. She brought only a sword and dagger for to bring more was frivolous to her. The Commander was a woman without frivolity.

This was why she did not wonder at the marvels boasted by the hall like the other warriors in the entourage. This was why she had brought the Tree Clan ambassador to Hali with her. She faltered only at the sight of Clarke. Clarke made sure to smile at her, showing her teeth that were splotched with black blood. The same colour of blood than ran through the Commander's veins.

Delos found a damp corner at the edge of the hall to settle in, his beady eyes firmly settled on the warrior standing closest to the Commander.

"Hello, Mother Luna of the Boat Clan," The Commander did not bow.

Clarke glared at her from behind her mask of bone and shadow. Few refused to bow before the Mother and all of them were dead. None of the warriors behind the Commander bowed either. Her hands itched for a knife.

The Mother's hand rose from her knee as she stilled Clarke's movement.

"Hello, Commander Lexa of the Tree Clan. This hall is a sacred place, see to it that you observe its traditions correctly," the Mother spoke far more diplomatically than Clarke could.

The Commander nodded to the warriors behind her, one by one they took a knee before the Mother. The Commander only bowed at the waist lightly, a show of respect but not a surrender of power.

"Rise, warriors of the Tree Clan," once again the warriors only rose when the Commander signaled for them to obey. The Mother spoke again, "Did you enjoy your wander through my village?"

The Commander settled her jaw, "We did. However, I am not here to see your city."

"Disappointingly so. What is it you command Commander?" Clarke could see a hint of Luna creeping through the Mother.

"A truce, between the Twelve Clans. I seek to destroy the Mountain once and for all," Clarke noticed the anger that built within the ensemble of warriors at the words.

"The Mountain is your own problem," one of the warriors behind the Commander stiffened at the Mother's words. Clarke's hands itched for a weapon once more. The Mother did not signal her to stop. She did glance at the warrior who had stiffened before speaking to the Commander, "A sea separates me from your Mountain. I have lost few warriors there. Why should I come to your aid? I receive no aid from your clan in war with the Ice Nation, why should you expect the same?"

"Peace," The Commander hesitated before her next words, "We expect peace. Hali is a city of peace is it not? You showed us your peace now help us create peace with the world. Let us create another glory," The Commander gestured at the bone arts along the wall. Clarke's respect for her rose slightly, "Do you not wish for more art in your sacred hall."

The Mother laughed. It was not the warm laugh of Luna, but a harsh noise that came from the gut and did not convey joy. She smiled and it was not the smile of Luna but a smile that would look welcome on Clarke's face, "But who would provide the bones?"

The Commander's building bravado fell with those words. The ambassador whispered words in her ear. Clarke's respect for her rose slightly, it was important to recognize and rely on the skills of others just as Clarke relied on Lupe. That she had thought to bring the ambassador, one of the most knowledgeable people in the tree clan in regards to boat clan customs, was another fragment of respect earned.

The Commander spoke after conferencing with the ambassador for a few short moments, "The Men of the Mountain would provide the bones for a final statue to the glory of peace. The glory represented shall be the lack of bones."

The Mother nodded, a trial completed. She looked at the others in the Commander's party. All wore the colours of the Tree Clan. She spoke again, "Why is your peace of twelve clans represented by only one?"

The Commander had an answer for that question, "For peace begins with one clan and then welcomes others, you are the first I have come to approach."

"Why?" The Commander seemed prepared for this one as she did not stutter as others before her had loath to do.

"For as the city of peace, Hali would make an excellent meeting ground for all twelve clans. For as the Mother of Peace, you are the one all others would listen to."

"You would found your peace on another's authority?"

The Commander straightened impossibly tighter, "I would found a coalition on another's peace."

"A coalition? With yourself at the head?" The Commander nodded, "Then you do not understand my role. You do not understand the Northern Clans," The Mother gestured at the Ice Nation warrior standing beside her.

He spoke like a puppet controlled by her strings, "We bow only to the Mother."

"And if the Mother bows to me?" The Commander overstepped her bound.

Clarke stepped past the Mother's throne, black sword lifting slightly out of its sheath.

"Calm," Clarke returned to the Mother's side as soon as the command was spoken.

The Commander had watched the advance calmly, the others behind her less so. She looked at Clarke, a clear respect on her face, "I do not believe you have introduced your followers."

"They may speak for themselves," The Mother watched The Commander with interest. She had only recently taken command, her conclave only a season before. For a child unused to the pressures of command, she bore it well.

The warrior of White stepped forward first. He nodded to them before speaking, "I am a warrior of White in service to the Mother, The Four Stags and the Ice Queen."

The Commander nodded. She dared not ask for a name when none was given. The ambassador had informed her of that as well. Or perhaps her elders had instilled manners in her before giving her ultimate control.

Clarke stepped forward as soon as the other had stepped back, "I am a warrior of Black in service to the Mother."

Clarke had believed her introduction done but the Commander asked more of her, "I have heard names for you, warrior of Black. What can you tell me of their truth?"

As soon as the Mother gave her assent for Clarke to speak, she did, "They call me the Bloody Smile. I believe the name tells its own story."

The Commander looked at the liquid splattered across Clarke's face and her eyes widened as she realized that it was black blood. She looked at the Mother, who continued to smile her serene not smile before bursting, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Meaning of what?" The Mother continued smiling. She was in charge of the experiments in the Hallway after all.

The Commander pointed at Clarke, "She has been murdering Nightbloods."

There were scattered gasps from the Tree Clan at that. The warrior of White glanced at his counterpart. She looked at him and smiled.

The Mother silenced the disruptive noise, "She has been killing many people. I believe the same can be said of you, Lexa."

The Commander stepped forward, hand on her weapon, "I demand to know the meaning of this treachery."

Clarke's hand strayed to her sword as she spoke out of turn, "It is not treachery if we never promised not to do it. They are not your people, Commander. For generations your clan has been hoarding the Nightbloods, demanding our villages sacrifice children to your clan. No more."

The Commander looked at the Mother, expecting her to call a punishment upon Clarke. The Mother nodded along to her words and the Commander grimaced discretely, "We demand the Nightbloods as we are the only ones who can raise them properly."

This had the warrior of White reacting negatively as he was the next to speak out of turn, "Do you insinuate that the other clans are not capable of raising leaders?"

The Commander had stepped into a trap. She knew it as well, her grip tightening on her sword. She also knew that to back down now was to doom her peace to failure, "I insinuate that the Commander is not merely a leader. It is a spirit of wisdom that transcends life and death just as the Mother does here."

At this the Mother smiled again, relaxing into her throne from her earlier rigorous posture, "I die often. It is only the Commander's spirit that clings to life. I remember the Commander before you. More brain than brawn. We grew up together before in a pretend sparring match I cut his knee and he bled black. I met him again, twenty winters later when he stood before me and asked the same that you do now," the Mother examined the girl in front of her, "I told him no for he demanded all those we raise that are born with blood coloured black."

The Mother raised her hand to Clarke who stepped forward then and cut a thin line down the inside of the Mother's palm. It bled black. The drops of blood had barely settled on the floor before outrage had risen and been vanquished by another movement by the Mother.

The Mother smiled at the confused and outraged face of the Commander. It was emotion with dilution but to those used to reading it, the signs spelled out clearly on the unexperienced leader's face.

"Return tomorrow when you know what you have the right to demand," The Mother dismissed them and the Commander stayed only for a few short seconds of resistance before leaving as commanded.

"Raki, leave us," the warrior of White departed. He left Clarke and the Mother alone in the hall.

"Clarke?"

"Yes Mother," Clarke stayed still, staring straight ahead with her hands behind her back.

"I want you to follow them. I need you to confirm some things for me."

* * *

"And the blood was black?" the delegates from the Tree Clan were gathered together around a war table in the ambassador's quarters. The one who asked the question was a fair headed woman next to the Commander.

"Black as mine," the Commander herself was sitting in a chair with her head rested on her arms. She looked a picture of contemplation.

"We cannot stand for this outrage. Killing Nightbloods!" the sound of the dark skinned warrior gripping the leather handle of her sword filled the suddenly silenced room.

The assembled council looked to the Commander for guidance. She continued staring at the table in front of her. The fair headed woman decided to intervene, "Let us not stray to violence immediately. The Mother is also a Nightblood, perhaps she could listen to reason?"

The Commander lifted her head, "No. The Mother will not listen to reason on this. We need to prove ourselves."

Rorik, the Ambassador stepped forth, "The Bloody Smile is the key, Commander," the Commander gestured for him to continue, "She has the Mother's ear."

"I am uncertain I should give her mine," The Commander looked at the other advisors in the room, "Anya what say you?"

The woman called Anya slunk forward from the shadows and spoke, "There is a reason that the Bloody Smile carries no name. She is no leader."

Rorik spoke in an attempt to prove his worth, "In the North names hold great significance. A warrior has to earn their name and so for one to willing give it up- "

Anya cut him off, "Means she's got deeper intentions. Could be the Mother's forcing her to hide something. Could be she doesn't want the attention. Whatever it is though…"

Rorik interrupted again, "She lacks the general support of the people," The Commander gestured for him to extrapolate, "They fear her. The Boat Clan knows of their war with the Ice but since the Bloody Smile has stepped in for interrogations and raids the people have been forgetting about it. Mothers are more scared of her than the Ice Nation."

"Costia?" The Commander looked to the blond haired woman.

"We've been discussing this for hours. I do not believe that the answer is violence. Indra," The warrior chieftain scowled, "would have us start a war for people who are not ours- "

"They are ours. That's the point of peace, to protect all people and to make all people ours,"

"Sure. But that does not erase the point I am trying to make. The Mother gave you a chance to make a second proposal and now is the time to make it. She said that the previous Commander had been a friend of hers, is there a way we can use that?"

The Commander shook her head, "I can't just talk to the past Commanders. You know that," Costia mumbled her apologies, "If we are making a new proposal to the Mother, what should we demand? I refuse to demand a punishment for Nightblood deaths," Indra's face fell, "We need a sophisticated response. We cannot demand that which they have already refused us, and we cannot offer something they already have."

"You can offer a challenge? We quite like those," the room reacted like a puddle that had just been stepped in.

The Bloody Smile was leaning calmly against the wall behind Indra. She had washed the blood from her face but still remained in her armour. She waved at the gathered Tree Clan. The Ambassador quickly went to kneel before the Warrior of the Black but she kept him standing with a hand under his arm.

The Commander crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, "What do you propose?"

The Smile circled the room, dancing black gauntlet clad fingers up Costia's unarmoured arm, "I suggest," Costia shrugged off the Smile's probing fingers, "that you offer us a show. Last good one we had was six months ago and I'm not interested in a repeat performance of that. So- "

"Do you think you can just barge in here and-"

"Enough Indra. Let her speak."

"Thank you Commander. As I was saying," Clarke straightened her overcoat from where Indra had been pulling it to reel her in for a punch to the face, "We like shows. There's a reason we've got that giant arena in town."

"You want to make peace through war?" Costia asked.

"Who would be fighting?" The Commander leaned onto the table, resting her chin on her crossed hands.

"Us."

"No."

"Anya. I accept," The Commander looked the Smile in the eye, "I want to know the name of the person I will be killing tomorrow."

"Who said anything about killing? In Hali we fight till first blood. No need to waste good warriors," The Smile had danced around the room, lightly touching each person to test their barriers and now she was nearly out the door.

"Your name?" The Commander stood from her chair as she watched her go.

"Clarke!" Just like that, the Smile was gone.

"Crazy woman that one," Rorik the Ambassador whispered.

Indra just growled as she rubbed the spot on her arm where the Boat Clan woman had poked her. The Commander smiled and reached out to Costia. Their hands touched nervously before grasping each other.

The Commander nodded to the others in the room before departing, pulling Costia along to her bedroom. She avoided locking eyes with Anya and the disappointment she wore clearly across her face. As soon as they were free from the prying eyes of the Ambassador's central room and into the hallway outside their room, Costia took the lead.

"I explored it thoroughly," Costia whispered into Lexa's ear as she led the Commander into their room. Costia trapped the Commander against the wall as she nipped her ear lightly.

The Commander pushed her warrior away, "I can't Costia."

Costia drew back and placed her hands on either side of the Commander's face, "What's wrong Lexa?"

"I can't stop seeing the blood," Costia drew Lexa into a hug. One hand tangled in the braids on the back of her head and the other drew round circles on her back.

"Hush. What is done is done. Tomorrow you will get revenge. Tomorrow you will make Clarke bleed."

"Don't say her name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited On: March 2, 2017
> 
> Original Note:  
> Yay! Lexa is here!  
> Don't worry she'll be back to the same old Lexa we know and love soon enough but I figure with Costia still alive she'd be a wee bit more naive.  
> Clarke got her metal hand back from the end of S2! I was rewatching episode 2x16 when I finally noticed the metal hand my friend kept on raving on and on about so yeah, Clarke has a metal gauntlet.  
> How'd you guys like Clarke's title/nickname? I don't see the grounders as being super creative when it comes to titles but I like it.  
> ~FoM  
> P.S. Indra is awesome and Anya shall appear soon!


	7. Warriors and the Coalition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa realizes a whole bunch of things

After meeting with Luna, Lexa had returned to Bugi's ship to see Costia. Following an intense hugging session and recapping the details of the negotiation, Lexa and Costia are standing near the railing making small talk as they wait for the sunset.

"I think she liked you."

"You weren't even there Costia, how could you know what Luna does and doesn't think?"

"Well she didn't command Smiley to kill you for one"

"Referring to a world-famous assassin and mass murderer as Smiley isn't polite you know."

"Well what am I supposed to call her?"

"Your host and the person standing right behind you," comes a deadpanned voice from behind them. The couple jump apart from their reunion hug and Lexa quickly dons her commander voice.

"What do you want?"

The assassin casually takes out a dagger and starts picking her nails clean of dirt, "It's never about what I want. But tell me, Costia, what is it you wish for?"

Costia starts at the question. She'd thought it would be a discussion between leaders and had begun to sneak away, "Lexa to be happy," is the only answer that comes to her mind.

"A lover indeed. Personally, I wish for my people to be safe, fed and in high moral. Do you know how you get one's people in high moral?"

Costia squirms but stills as Lexa places a calming hand upon her shoulder, and she shakes her head response.

"I thought as much. Turns out the only way to keep my people in high moral is to tramp around through the wilderness with Delos and kill people. We sure are a lovely bunch. But alas sometimes that isn't enough for them. So Luna sends me out... and I slaughter. There's nothing quite like murdering entire villages. I heavily recommend it. It's very therapeutic," The assassin seems to have gone off on a tangent again as she describes the psychiatric properties of mass murder, although Lexa and Costia were staring at her with something akin to rampant horror. What on earth had happened to the stoic warrior who'd insulted Lexa earlier?

Delos seems to be reading the crowd as he climbs up Clarke's clothing before chittering something into her ear, "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself!" She jumps off the railing of the ship and marches towards Bugi from where he'd been watching with widening eyes, "I'm Clarke, first mate of Luna, killer of hundreds, Delos' trainer and best friend, master of Ipmu, and captain of this fine ship! Don't tell me Bugi never mentioned his wonderful captain?"

Lexa's eyes widen in nearly comical horror. This whole time, Clarke had been watching them. She knew nearly everything from their plans to their failsafes back home to what soap Costia uses!

"I'm sorry Lexa, but Clarke told us not to tell you," Bugi's words are dripped in guilt from where he stands behind his captain. His eyes are downcast and suddenly Lexa is struck by how young he truly is as he plays with his hands and turns to accept a hug from one of his fellow crew members. Lexa's mind faintly provides the name Sienna before dissolving into shock. Costia's gasp next to her signals that she too realizes the depth of the knowledge Clarke and Luna now hold against us. They'd been planning freely on the deck while traveling for they'd thought that Bugi was a nobody whom Luna wouldn't listen too. If only Indra had been healthy enough to chastise them for their foolishness.

"Luna has given you a request Lexa. I am simply here to see your strength. So I ask of you now, how shall you show your strength, Lexa of the Trigedakru?" Clarke is slipping back into her serious mode from before in the tent. Her words short and clipped as if she really doesn't like being given guard duty.

Lexa's mind is still reeling from shock but she comes up with a response none the less, "I'll fight you. Single combat with weapons of your choice."

Clarke shakes her head in the same way Luna had earlier while denying her offers, "Luna doesn't want to see you fight. Anya has probably trained you enough that you would stand a chance. Luna wants to see the strength of your command. Show us why you are the commander Lexa. Show us your spirit!"

Lexa's eyes narrow at the challenge, "Fine. You and your two finest warriors against Lincoln, Indra and I. Let us compare the strength of our leadership."

Clarke sighs, "Luna, Delos and I accept your challenge. Bugi shall show you and your warriors to the arena tomorrow at first light. Show us your strength. Prove to us that your heart stands without weakness!" Clarke makes her pronouncement before dashing to the railing and jumping to the dock below, Delos clinging desperately to her shoulders the whole while.

Costia is suddenly struck by how truly strange Clarke is. She seemed to flip between emotions like a calendar and her smile was forever painted across her face. It was stranger still how instead of taking another legend into the arena with them Clarke was bringing Delos. Did the fur ball even count as a warrior? Costia shrugs before turning to Lexa who seems to be shell-shocked with her eyes wide and her mouth lightly open.

Costia's never seen Lexa fall apart like this. Usually the commander is proud, with her eyes promising death to any who deny her. Costia knows that Lexa is always more open with her but it's still shocking whenever the Commander leaves and only Lexa is left behind. Lexa needs time, so Costia wraps her arms around Lexa's waist and rests her head on Lexa's shoulder. There is no need to uphold the mask of mighty commander when all those present have already seen through it. Lexa lets Costia drag her away and she sits silently in her bunk. Thoughts are running rampant through her mind. She doesn't know much of Luna and Clarke's skill set. All she knows is that the two are strong. They're much much stronger than Anya or Lexa or Gustus or Indra.

Lexa doesn't sleep well that night.

None the less as the sun rises the next morning she finds herself in the 6th segment's arena. Bugi had been kind enough to lead the 4 Trikru there in silence, knowing that his lie had hurt them. The Trikru are pretty well known for their love of honesty after all. Lexa had asked Costia to remain on the ship again. But she had refused and is now sitting up in the crowd with Bugi and the rest of Clarke's crew.

Slowly spectators start to pour into the seats available around the near-gladiator style arena. With metal stands and a large circular dirt area marred by dried blood and scuff marks the arena certainly doesn't seem at home amongst the happy citizens of Hali. However as merchants, warriors and government officials alike pile into the arena Lexa remembers something Anya had told her before she left. The biggest reason that Hali was as prosperous as it was is that every single villager, from merchant to farmer, is trained as a warrior. Every single one of the happy vendors and rumor mongering civilians is a trained, vicious warrior.

They seem proud of it too. Sitting in the stands are not merchants or officials, but warriors who trained for years only to squander that training on farming and paperwork. This arena wasn't built for Luna's guard.

This arena was built so the civilians could uphold their friendly posture to outsiders. Lexa's heart falters for a second at the realization. She'd marched into this town thinking it would be just like Ton DC where the warriors are the only ones with masks. Lexa knows then that she was wrong to think that with 10 clans she could overtake the boat people. Even with all 10 clan's warriors on her side she couldn't fight back against the might of this civilian army.

So when Luna and Clarke march into the arena wearing their traditional uniforms, Luna in white and Clarke in black with Delos clad in armor, Lexa feels horror. All of their warriors, all of their army are prodigies. Every single one of them... and Luna and Clarke stand above them by miles. Indra and Lincoln don't seem to have noticed it yet, but Lexa knows that they will lose.

"Welcome to the arena! On this day Lexa of the Trigedakru shall show us her strength and I shall see if she can command our armies! What say you Lexa? Are you strong enough to take on the three strongest warriors of our clan with your own?" Luna's words have the crowd in a frenzy. They too wish to see the strength of the commander. They too want to see the might of the person who has claimed ultimate leadership over them.

Lexa decides then that she doesn't want to lose. And when that decision is made she notices something. She notices that all of these assembled warriors are dressed almost akin to her own. She notices that Costia seems at home with this crowd. She notices that it's not just boat people upon the stands. There are Azkru, Maunkru and even Trikru sprinkled freely amongst them. Luna isn't called the Mother of Boat People. She's called the Mother, for she accepts everyone into Hali. These aren't just warriors or civilians with masks. These are people. People belonging to the twelve clans that Lexa had believed it was her duty to unite. Lexa makes another decision then as Clarke draws her swords and her eyes glint with delight mirrored in Indra's as they nod at each other.

"I see not warriors from your clan," The crowd's frantic adoration stops at this, "I see warriors from my clan. For my clan is everyone! I've been looking at this peace as if it was my duty to draw all of the people together under my command. But you have already attained that Luna. My new wish is that all clans can be one! Before the clans there was a conference across the sea with representatives from all peoples that stood together and united the world!" Indra is staring at her in shock. Her sword being sheathed as Clarke does the same. Clarke's eyes seem to shine with pride. So this is why she seemed disappointed earlier, but accepted none the less. She'd known that upon entering the arena Lexa would look at the crowd and see not just Boat People, but people. Lexa smiles at the crowd through her war paint. She'd approached these people as if they were any other. But not all clans will fall apart and let the Commander trample all over them.

"I extend a different offer today, instead of an alliance I ask that you come together with me and form a coalition!" Lexa steps forwards then. Towards Clarke and Luna when just minutes before she would have been terrified of doing the same. She walks with shaky steps and then extends her hand to Luna. Clarke is there besides her. Her metal hand still clutching one of the many sword upon her back. But then Luna's hand lifts from her side.

As Luna grasps her arm firmly at the elbow in a grip that expressed so, so much more than unity and kindness, Clarke speaks in her leader's stead.

"Today Lexa has shown us her strength! It is not a strength of sword such as mine, or a strength of heart such as Luna's. Today Lexa has shown us the reason that she is called Commander!" Luna has let go of her hand now and Clarke draws her sword. Faintly Lexa realizes that they've been planning this. For the sword that Clarke draws is not made of Maunkru steel like the others upon her back, but of stained glass. The sword is faintly blue, and Lexa wonders how the smiths managed to make the sword appear so delicate and yet fiercely strong.

Clarke removes the black wrappings around her non-metal hand and quickly slices the blue blade across her palm, "Upon my blood, I bind my swords to your name," Here she pauses and takes out a cloth stained red by blood which she ties around the hilt of the beautiful sword, "Upon my vengeance, I promise swift justice," Lexa's widen as she realizes who's blood must then coat the cloth. It's the blood of the traitor who's screams had given her the name of Bloody Smile. Clarke pulls out a braid that could only have belonged to her second. Bugi gasps in the crowd as he recognizes his sister's hair, "Upon my redemption, I offer my loyalty," Clarke looks to Luna, and nods.

Luna smiles, and continues the grand ceremony, "Do you Lexa, Commander of the 12 Clans accept the gift of my First Mate to serve as your own?"

Lexa comes to another realization that day. Even as Luna offers her own daughter to serve under Luna as an act of good favor, she's truly just aiming a knife to strike her back should she step wrongly.

"I do,"

And as Lexa speaks those two simple words, she doesn't realize just how much this peace will cost her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Costia's going to die soon.  
> Like I said... somewhere... Clarke's very much broken right now. Just like in canon, their relationship is going to involve mutual guidance and advice. 
> 
> Heres some questions multiple people have asked:
> 
> Can Clarke have an Assassins Creed-based uniform?:  
> Sure! However one of the biggest reasons all of Luna's warriors have 1 uniform is to show their similarities. The Trikru all have their vicious war-paint so the Boat People get matching outfits. However, the uniforms I kinda describe Luna and Clarke as wearing when they enter the arena are more assassin like and have reasons for being different. 
> 
> Will the 100 be coming down?  
> Yeah, but it'll be a while. There's 11 months or so until they come down in canon and I plan to keep that date the same. 
> 
> Will Clarke be getting a second?  
> You bet she will! In this chapter there's already a mention of Clarke having had one, but just like Anya, Sensei-Clarke shall rise from the ashes and teach once more! 
> 
> Who will take the place of Clarke amongst the 100?  
> The thing about Clarke is that she can't be replaced. Her not being on the Ark is going to have massive consequences. Massive consequences that we won't be seeing for a very long time. We've still got to make peace with the Azkru and kill off Costia!
> 
> Anyways! What'd you guys think?  
> ~FoM


	8. Radishes and The Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Indra have a surprising relationship

Two days, five crates of radishes, one prank, a weird bonding session, two buckets of seaweed and twelve card games later, and Lexa knows that Clarke is the most infuriating person to ever set foot on this earth. Between her silent conversations with Delos, her constantly changing emotions and her carefree relationship with her subordinates, Lexa's at her wits end.

It'd all started after the deal in the arena two days ago, when Clarke revealed that as her first mate she was going to have to accompany her to all formal meetings and negotiations. It truly wasn't that bad, until Costia found out that she and Lincoln had been summoned back to Ton DC by Gustus. Lexa'd almost denied their trip but then she'd seen the demanding look on Costia's face.

She didn't want to be surrounded by the faint scent of fish guts any longer. So Lexa sighed and watched as her ship left the 7th segment's port. Her mind was immediately drawn to who she would spend her free time with during the next two weeks she would be spending here as her, Luna and Clarke hammered out the terms of the coalition but her mind came up blank.

Clarke and Indra had struck up quite the weird friendship over the three days they've known each other. Clarke even gave Indra one of her spare Maunkru steel knives. Between laughing together, pulling a prank on Lincoln before he left and planning pretend sieges on Ton DC, the two are thick as thieves. Lexa feels justified in her fear of the duo. Well, trio if you include Delos. Lexa still isn't certain if the fur ball actually counts as a warrior.

Despite her strange friendship with Indra, Clarke still had enough time to pop up out of nowhere to startle Lexa just when she thinks she is alone. Lexa'd tried to go to Bugi for help but he's been avoiding her since Clarke revealed his lie. Lexa had even tried approaching Sienna and Ursula when she'd seen them walking down the street together but the blonde women had ignored her and continued their knife shopping. She'd asked Clarke, apparently Sienna had an invested interest in knives both for cooking and her various assassinations, and Ursula's famous for her eight dagger weapon style. Something about Octopi was mentioned as well but Lexa tended to tune Clarke out much of the time.

Clarke's usually talking to Delos anyways.

But none the less, after two days of negotiations, self-caused isolation, moon-lit walks, goodbyes and angry vendors Lexa snaps. Now when the Commander snaps it's a grand collapse of a masterfully crafted mask and it usually leaves at least one person fatally wounded.

When Lexa snaps it's carefully hidden behind the Commander and the damage waits until someone pulls on her string just one more time...

Unsurprisingly it's Clarke who tugs on that string.

Lexa's sitting in the port of the 8th segment with her legs dangling over the water. It's sunset so Hali is in full-swing with parties and celebrations on every street and the ports have been left empty. Next to her, Clarke's ship, Daun Klaka as Bugi called it, has recently been refitted with white sails for Lexa's journey to the meet with the Azkru in 2 weeks. The boat is stuck in a gentle lull with each wave rocking it from side to side. The sun's rays are vanishing behind Daun Klaka giving the sky a rosy hue.

Lexa's hair has been removed from it's braids and hangs loose around her face. She's humming a gentle hymn that Costia claims to be a gift from the sky and the faint tinge of dead fish from the 7th segment is just faint enough that Lexa can forget it's existence.

"If someone had told me I would be spying on the Commander as she hums and smells like fish guts two weeks ago I would have punched them off a bridge," Lexa rolls her eyes at the intrusion before looking around for the source, "Down here princess!" Clarke calls from below Lexa where she'd been resting in a small rowboat for most of the sunset.

"If someone had told me I would have such an infuriating guard a week ago I would have set Indra on them. What do you want now Clarke?"

"Why a nice row into the sunset of course. It's truly much more beautiful out there with the stars below you and a nice sea breeze running through your hair," Lexa doesn't see the harm. It's truly a sin to have beauty hanging in the air around them and not embrace it. Though she could think of at least a thousand people she would rather embrace it with. The Commander is raging around through the back of her mind telling her that this is a horrible idea. But everyone needs to relax sometime.

So Lexa searches for the way down, she doesn't feel like falling into the water, or worse tipping the boat. Clarke points out a ladder when she sees her confusion and Lexa climbs down. There's a short bit of confusion as Clarke tries to coach Lexa on how to get into the boat without tipping it, but Lexa's a big girl so she figures it out. 

Lexa sighs as she sits down, there's only two seats so she finds herself sitting directly across from Clarke. Clarke smiles at her before grabbing the two oars and rowing them back out of the bay.

"It's a beautiful song by the way."

Lexa's startled out of her musings by Clarke's question, "Hm?"

"The one you were humming. Reminds me of one Luna used to sing."

"It's Costia's favorite," Lexa dismisses the conversation.

"I've never really pictured the big bad commander as being a singer."

Lexa feels her general annoyance from Clarke's presence returning, "Do you want something?"

"Nothing, Commander. You just seemed like you needed a friend,"

Lexa scoffs, "What would a murderer like you know about friends?"

Clarke scowls at that, "Just because I'm a murderer doesn't mean I'm not human. Or was I not included in your grand pronouncement yesterday that we're all part of one people?"

Lexa stares off into the distance. There's a ship with white sails docking in the 8th segment. Strange, Bugi had told her the only time ships could dock at night was if something important was happening. As in war being declared important.

"Just loosen up Lexa. Watch the sunset."

Delos pipes up from where he's sitting between Clarke's legs with a round of chatter. Lexa assumes he's talking about the wonderful properties of mass-murder like Clarke seems fond of doing.

Lexa can feel her fine control break, "Loosen up, fine. I'll loosen up! You're driving me insane! I've been here for two days and every single time I open my mouth Luna gives me this look. You're treating me like a child!"

Clarke snarls. Finally, Lexa smirks. Finally she'll get a reaction, "Because you are one Lexa! You're nothing but a child who hasn't seen the weight of war."

"And what does that make you? A child who's soaked in blood?"

"At least I'm a child who knows what world she lives in."

Lexa can feel her anger leaving as tears start streaming down her face. Lexa curls in on herself, her back bending forward until she's hugging her knees, "Sometimes it's hard. It's hard and the Commander's so strong but underneath the paint and the braids and the armor I'm so weak."

She doesn't know why she's trusting this absolute stranger. She doesn't know why she's telling her things not even Costia knows. She doesn't know why she can't reach across the two feet that separate them and strangle Clarke like she should want to.

When Lexa snaps, she can never be fixed.

So Lexa cries. She cries as Clarke awkwardly wraps her arms around her and pulls her into a warm hug. She cries because sometimes being the Commander is hard and she doesn't know why Luna and Clarke make being in charge look so effortless. She cries even when Delos starts licking her cheek and knots up her hair with his claws. 

She doesn't know why she trusts Clarke. But she's sworn not to hurt her and Lexa really, really can't hold it back anymore. Anya's teachings whisper in the back of her mind with the Commander but she's tired. Her arms lift up uncertainly from her sides as she returns the hug.

Clarke doesn't cry, she doesn't have anymore tears to shed, but in another time she would've. 

The sun has gone down well before Lexa lets go. Clarke's shoulder is soaked in snot and tears but still she smiles at Lexa. Still she smiles and this time Lexa knows the smile is true. Lexa finds herself smiling in return.

"There, that wasn't so hard was it?" Lexa feels that annoyance returning again but she shoves it down. Because Clarke cares. Even if it's just because she doesn't want to be working under a crazy person. Even then, Clarke cares and that means something.

"Shut up, Smiley"

"Hey! Low blow!" Lexa grins at her. Even though there's only the light of the moon remaining. She knows that this Clarke is a mask. But it's the mask she needs to see so she lets it slide.

Lexa starts reforming the Commander as Clarke rows them back to shore. Delos is curled up on Lexa's lap and surprisingly, she doesn't mind the drool leaking out of his mouth.

As the boat reaches the port Lexa's mask is firmly in place and all of the pieces that had been shattered short minutes ago are being forced back together. Theres a little chip still missing from Lexa and as the two warriors climb out from the boat and pull it ashore, it remains missing.

The two calmly walk back to Luna's house where Lexa's staying and she almost doesn't remember the ship with the white sails she'd seen earlier. Clarke opens the door, and there sitting on the table is a familiar head.

There on the table illuminated only by candles, is Costia.

Cracks appear from that missing chip,

Lexa shatters

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang! Sorry for the late update :D  
> Costia's dead! Now we can move on to the Clexa! 
> 
> My apologies if Lexa's first breakdown seemed to go too quickly but she seems like the type that just kinda lays it all out there and then cries for a really, really long time. 
> 
> Next chapter's going to continue Clarke's job as snot pillow, so yay!
> 
> Here's another question I've gotten a lot:
> 
> What's going on with Bugi and Clarke?  
> Bugia's dead. She was Clarke's second and Clarke did something during the 6 months after Libra's death that got her killed. What did she do? I'll tell you later >:)
> 
> ~FoM


	9. The Messenger and the Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke takes off her shirt...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: TORTURE (Though brief)

Clarke's hand falls away from the door. Lexa's knees have given out from underneath her so Clarke steps forwards and catches her before she can injure herself. Lexa's face is anguished. Tears have begun falling out of her eyes once more and her mouth has fallen open. At the sound of their fall Luna turns around, her face ablaze with fury.

She's standing at the table with two guards next to her and a messenger chained into a chair across the table. Clarke and Lexa had walked in on an interrogation.

"Nomon? What is this?" Clarke's voice is strained, and sounds so unlike her usual that Luna's hard expression softens before she turns back to the messenger.

"Costia and Lincoln's ship was attacked during last night's storm. Lincoln survived but the ship was ransacked. One of our trading ships came across the wreckage, this messenger was waiting for them," Luna's guards leave when she flicks her wrist in dismissal. They have a hard time moving around Lexa and I but they manage it. Lexa's tears continue to fall and she shows no sign of movement. She's empty, shattered.

"Nomon can you look after Lexa? I'll get the information we want from him," Luna nods and grasps Lexa at the knee and shoulder before lifting her and carrying her to the next room, out of sight from the head but still close enough that she can revel in the screams Clarke shall be causing.

"Hello there, my name's Clarke, this is Diana," Clarke reaches into her belt and draws out a pure white blade, with a serrated edge designed for sawing. The blade glints in the candle light revealing it's poisonous nature, "She really, really wants to meet you. But you see, she doesn't have too if you tell me everything."

The man's face remains stoic. He stares straight ahead and for a second Clarke is reminded of Libra before she killed him, "Do you know who I am?"

This gets a reaction out of him as he turns to look at her suspiciously, "I believe you know me as the Bloody Smile," his eyes widen at the name. Clarke's become something of a boogeyman in the Ice Nation due to her massive killing sprees, "Do you want to talk now?" the man straightens himself and resumes his stoic face, "Good, more fun for me," Clarke switches her grip on Diana before stabbing through his palm.

Clarke steps back and watches for a couple of seconds as the poison enters his bloodstream. She sighs and takes off her jacket revealing a lightly worn tank top, muscled biceps and numerous scars along her shoulder blades. On one arm she has a black tattoo of waves swirling around her bicep marking her as a member of the Floudonkru and on the other two crossed bones and a wolf skull mark her as a member of Jus en Klaka's crew.

Clarke changes her grip on Diana again before dragging it through the skin on his shoulder.

"Tell me who sent you," another cut across his chest. By now the poison is sitting in and the messenger can feel burns forming along his skin.

"Meet Diana, poisoned with diluted juice from the fruit of a manchineel tree. I hope you get along well together," the man screams as his veins are burned through by the deadly juice now running through him.

Clarke holds up a small vial, "As much as I enjoy your screams, tell me everything and I'll heal you."

And so the man blabs. It's not surprising really, he's a messenger from the Ice Nation. They don't train all their citizens for battle up there, the fools. Even the Maunkru train all their people on how to withstand torture, though that may be more so they don't flinch in the face of sparks from their forges. He tells Clarke everything she asks for, from the location of every Azkru village to his mother's maiden name. She smiles and offers him the vial. When he eagerly opens his mouth she tips the liquid in being careful not to get any on herself. The man's eyes widen as the new poison takes effect and Clarke clasps her hand over his mouth and nose.

"Now that one was juice squeezed from the Gimpie Gimpie plant. It's also known as the stinging tree, how're you feeling?" the man's face is turning red but eventually he swallows and Clarke removes her hand from his face unleashing his scream. Veins all across the mans body tense as he struggles and struggles to free himself. The pain is intense, and often known for forcing stronger men to suicide. Clarke sighs once she's certain that his chains are secured, not that he could run away if he tried.

But just to be certain she heats up another dagger and cuts his achilles heels.

"Be a good boy and scream for me won't you?" the man is so far gone into his screams that he's frothing at the mouth, "Tsk, I asked you a question," Clarke grabs Diana and stabs the man in the arm again, furthering the spread of the manchineel poison and the burns that are now appearing all across his body as the poison spreads through his veins and combines with the juice from the stinging tree,

"I'll be back in a bit with my friend, keep this warm for me will you?" Clarke grabs a needle from the torture tools Luna has set out and slams it between the tendon and ligaments in his knee. The needle is coated in more juice from the stinging tree and the man has bit off a bit of his tongue from the pain.

Clarke rises and leaves the man behind to go and see Luna and Lexa. Her hands are covered in his blood from when she cut him with Diana so she takes care to draw the two tear-lines down her face.

As Clarke opens the door she comes across the scene of Lexa sobbing as she grasps desperately at Luna's back. Clarke kneels down next to the two and wraps her blood-soaked arms around them. Lexa snuggles into the new heat as Clarke gently removes her arms before starting to braid Lexa's hair.

"Is it done?" asks Luna, knowing that Lexa will appreciate at least some semblance of normality during this chaotic time.

"He told me everything, I made sure to use only Diana and Gimpie so Lexa can make her choice."

Lexa continues sobbing into Luna's shoulder, not even bothering to respond. The screams still fill the air around them as the man next door is slowly passing from this world.

Clarke makes quick work of Luna's braids, she'd often done them for Bugia in the same fashion. When Lexa's sobs stop momentarily, Luna sees her opportunity.

"Lexa, I know this isn't the time, but do you wish to walk the path of redemption or vengeance?"

Lexa's tears and heaves for breath still momentarily as she considers her options, "Whats the difference?" her voice is weak, and muffled by Luna's shoulder. Luna grins at Clarke as she remembers the blonde's own response when asked the question.

"Ones a path of love, the other a path of hatred. Lexa, you have all the time in the world to make your choice," Clarke pipes up as she gently wipes away some of Lexa's tears before hugging her again.

"I can remember her face Clarke. The way her nose scrunches when she smells dead fish, the way she smiles when Delos chitters at you, the way she and Indra never get along. I can remember everything, she isn't gone Clarke. She's still here... She's not gone," Lexa's voice is quiet and panicked as if trying to assure herself that when she returns to Ton DC Costia will still be there for greet her.

"She's gone Lexa. The dead are gone and the living are hungry," Clarke's eyes close as she offers the words that let her sleep at night.

"But she's not dead! Costia's not dead! She's not! She told me she'd never leave me!" Lexa's getting frantic, her head roughly shaking into Luna's shoulder as she sobs. Luna weathers the storm before grasping Lexa's head soothingly with her hand.

Luna starts humming, even as the man in the next room provides an eerie backdrop.

"Lexa, she's gone."

Lexa continues shaking her head. She's showing just how truly young she is and suddenly it strikes Clarke that Lexa might just be younger than her. Even Clarke is still only sixteen years old, though her seventeenth will soon arrive.

The man next door's scream suddenly stop. Clarke looks up at the silence before nodding to Luna. Luna continues humming gently as Clarke stands and draws Diana. Delos shows up from the corner he'd run off to in order to avoid the screams. His ears are quite sensitive after all.

Delos climbs up Clarke's back and she draws a dagger in her other hand. With short, deliberate steps she inches towards the door. In a flash of speed the door slams open, and Clarke's arm snaps out to stab the unfamiliar face that appears. Diana tears through the skin on his shoulder as the other dagger stabs into his raised arm. Delos jumps from one human to the other as he unsheathes his claws and digs them into the intruder's arm before climbing to his neck and biting into his jugular. As Delos rips into his neck, Clarke pulls back Diana and kills the attacker by sheathing her dagger into his heart.

Clarke remains hunched over the body as she waits for another intruder to show themselves. When nobody emerges from the darkness Clarke sheathes Diana but keeps the other dagger in hand as she glances around the room. The messenger's throat has been slit and several candles have been knocked to the floor. After making sure nothing else has changed Clarke sheathes the final dagger in her boot before replacing the candles. Delos returns to his master after he'd checked the rest of the house for intruders.

Delos climbs up and nestles himself across Clarke's shoulders as she returns to Luna and Lexa.

"Where?" Clarke asks, knowing what Luna now wants from her.

"Pick five, murder them all," Luna's voice is cold as she informs her of her mission, "Take only Delos. I want you back in twelve days to go with Lexa to meet her."

Clarke nods, "As you wish, Mother."

And so Clarke leaves, taking with her two swords, Delos and five flags marked with her Mother's symbol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: those were real plant poisons I mentioned 
> 
> Also, sorry if Lexa's breakdown was skipped over, I just felt that it would have made Clarke slightly uncomfortable to be around Luna while she's working her magic and there were things that she had to do. 
> 
> >:D Feel free to ask questions, though I can't promise that I'll reveal much of anything.  
> ~FoM


	10. The Dream and the Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna tells a bedtime story when it isn't bedtime

She's gone.

The words repeat over and over in Lexa's mind. Luna's arms are wrapped securely around her and Clarke left hours ago.

She's gone.

Her mind tries to process this new information. Because Costia isn't gone. She's back in Ton DC with Anya and she's making Anya smile in that way only she can.

She's gone.

Clarke's words echo through her mind.

She's gone.

Luna stays, with her arms wrapped around Lexa. Even when the sun rises and others come searching for her. Lexa can feel cramps setting in but she doesn't care. She knows that Luna and her should be talking about trading and defenses today but she doesn't care. Because Costia's gone and she's never going to smile at Lexa again.

She's gone.

Lexa's mind goes blank but for those two words. Luna starts rubbing small circles into her back.

Lexa doesn't really feel them. She just stares ahead, not even crying anymore. She can't cry because the clans need the Commander and the Commander doesn't cry. But the Commander isn't there anymore.

There's no faint whispers in the back of her mind and it feels empty. All there is is those two words.

She's gone.

Lexa suddenly wants to stab something. But Luna starts humming as she tenses, so that thought vanishes from her mind. It's strangely peaceful. With nothing but two words rattling through a brain that's usually full of them. Lexa decides that when Costia comes back, because she isn't gone, she's going to take up meditating. Clarke'd mentioned it sometime in between praising mass-murder's therapeutic abilities and pranking lincoln.

Lexa can remember the first time she'd met Costia. It was three years ago just as Anya was starting to teach Lexa about being the Commander. Lexa ran into her in the middle of Ton DC and she'd apologized even when Lexa was the one who'd knocked her into the dirt.

She's gone.

Lexa can remember everything. From the shade of her hair as it sparkled in the sunlight, to her love of cheese, to the small birth marks that decorated her shoulder beneath her 5 kills. Lexa had often wondered how someone could be so gentle. Lexa'd often wondered if Costia was even a warrior, but her soft smile when she wields a properly weighted sword spoke otherwise. Costia always brought out the bright, happier things in Lexa.

She's gone.

Lexa wonders momentarily what Costia would do... if she was still here and it was Lexa who was gone. Suddenly she remembers Costia's answer from two days ago. When Clarke had asked Costia of her wish, there'd been no hesitation. All Costia had wanted was for her to be happy. Lexa doesn't feel happy. Lexa doesn't think that she'll ever feel again.

She's gone.

Luna's still humming.

Lexa wonders what she did in her past life. What sin she committed that the gods decided Costia was the one in need of punishment.

She's gone.

The two words are losing meaning.

She's gone.

Lexa wonders at what she could have done differently. She could have stayed in Ton DC and forgotten about achieving peace. She could have gone with Costia and protected her. She could have done so, so many things.

"Tell me a story. Clarke said you're good at it," Lexa asks, her voice hoarse from her tears.

"Clarke probably lied," Lexa smiles, Clarke's good at lying.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl who was banished from her home. She lived in a mighty palace deep in the forest. But one day her Father caught her practicing with a sword and sent her away, because girls aren't allowed to have swords.

The girl was left in the middle of the forest all alone, with nothing but laughing crows to keep her company. At night fierce beasts would stalk towards her so the girl climbed up into a high tree. When morning came she was still sitting in that tree and she could see a big body of water in the distance," Lexa can feel a small smile forming as she remembers her own surprise at the vastness of the ocean. The two words stop echoing around her mind as she feels sleep creeping up on her.

"The girl was so happy at seeing the water that she fell out of her tree. When she fell she hurt her leg, but then a wolf emerged out of the wilderness. The wolf smiled at the girl and brought her medicine to treat her leg. Soon the girl was well, and so the wolf lead her to the sea. When she arrived at the sea she was greeted by a beautiful woman with hair whiter than snow and a small village," Lexa feels her eyes close as Luna rubs her back softly, "The woman turned to the girl, and named her Luna," Lexa falls asleep and dreams of the woman and girl fighting battles together.

* * *

Luna smiles as Lexa falls asleep. She stops rubbing Lexa across the back and reaches into the bag one of the guards had fetched her. With a small smile she wipes the hair away from Lexa's face before she gently sticks a needle into her revealed upper arm.

She smiles as the girl stirs slightly before tightening her grip on Luna's back.

"Good night, Commander."

* * *

Miles away, Clarke's sailing her way up the shoreline. She'd taken one of the smaller boats specifically designed for use by Luna and herself. The boats are much smaller than normal and almost resemble a rowboat if not for the tall, transparent sail and low hull. Delos is currently huddled up in the corner of the boat with Clarke's winter armor. They're close to Ice Nation territory so the air is steadily getting colder. There should be two to three villages in a row near the shoreline for trading purposes.

They've been the most frequent targets for Clarke's raids whenever the Ice Nation decided to make a move on their borders. Despite Clarke's relatively low amount of experience in comparison to other members of the Floudonkru, she'd excelled at assassinations. It didn't matter the time or place, if you wanted someone dead Clarke could do it.

However, after Libra's death Luna had asked something different of Clarke. She didn't want her to kill any old warrior or leader, she wanted Clarke to annihilate whole villages.

Up ahead Clarke can see smoke, so she quickly pulls her jacket back on before throwing up her hood and grabbing one of her Mother's flags. Luna had asked Clarke if she wanted to wear warpaint back at the beginning, but she'd denied and now the blood of her enemies served as her paint.

Clarke docks the small ship a mile out of town. With a sigh she wakes Delos up from his nap and they climb up the nearest tree to get an advantage. The flag is tucked securely into her belt and Clarke jumps from tree to tree as Delos leads the way. Halfway through the mile two scouts cross their path on a patrol but with a flick of a wrist two daggers come into Clarke's hands. A small smile forms on her lips as she drops between the two and slices through their throats using a reverse-grip. Clarke makes it the rest of the way through town without incident.

She smiles as from her pocket she reveals a small vial of clear liquid. The liquid is a special blend of Polonium, Ricin, Manchineel juice, XV and Cyanide. The five poisons combine together to create a liquid that when heated to gaseous form causes severe blistering, and vomiting for sixty seconds before it blocks all passage between your vital organs, and that's just from skin contact. The XV even had the added bonus of making sure that the deadly poison stays stationary and sticks to all nearby surfaces. The deadly poison can penetrate through concrete and is the hardest chemical substance to reproduce. It's Luna's secret recipe and it has to be kept in lead-reinforced glass cases and vials.

Clarke smiles before she pulls out a lighter. Surprisingly the combination of deadly poisons actually had a lower boiling point than all of it's base components. So as she holds the small vial over the lighter Clarke immediately sees bubbles forming and pulls the lighter away. She puts on a face mask, goggles and then puts a gas-mask stolen from the Trikru's mountain men over top of it. With a quick check she ensures that all of her skin is covered and that Delos is secure in the backpack she'd brought along just for this.

Clarke puts away the lighter and attaches the vial of poison to a larger vial and after being extra sure that there are no gaps, she twists open the vial a little and allows the gaseous poison to enter the larger vial. She twists the vial closed after it stops bubbling. Even a microgram of this gas could kill a whole clan and possibly more. Clarke drops the bag with Delos after she's commanded him to stay there, he'll get his fun in the next village.

She sneaks into the town dipping and bending into archways so as to eliminate the chance of her getting caught, she does have a job to do before she murders everyone in the surrounding area. So Clarke sneaks into the largest building in the small town and hangs the flag with the two bones and a wolf skull right in the middle of the front hallway.

Clarke puts the large vial directly under the flag, and leaves before anyone even knows she's there.

Clarke leaves and takes Delos with her, never looking back even as she hears the harsh screams hours later when someone is foolish enough to open the seemingly empty vial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure that if you checked my browsing history it would look like I was planning a terrorist attack with how many poisons I just did research on.  
> Also there's a bit of pov change, starting off with 3rd person Lexa specific and then changing to Luna specific and then to Clarke specific... also I meant Villages... Clarke's going to pick 5 villages and kill all of the people in them.  
> ~FoM


	11. The Lion and the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delos ponders the meaning of the human existence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delos POV! HERE WE GOOOOO!

Delos often wondered why the Lion girl listens to the Moon woman. But then, two weeks after the Lion girl cried and soaked the pavement in blood, Delos found out. 

* * *

The sun was warm on Delos' fur and he stretched his hind legs in a manner akin to the wretched cat creatures. Smells swarmed around him and suddenly he was reminded of his mission. So Delos grabbed the vial Lion girl had given to him and set off across the rooftops of the big city. He ducked into the familiar alleyway where the Lion girl and Moon woman usually received their foul smelling plants from. 

The small window was open, as per usual, so Delos slipped in and crouched in the corner of the plant-room as the snarly man talked with one of the angry men in the center of the room. They were talking in the weird grunts and vowels the humans usually do and so Delos contended himself with sniffing and licking his right forepaw, he never licks never the left. The angry man left quickly with a bunch of red flowers in hand and the snarly man looked to Delos' corner before he walked over. 

Delos dropped the vial in front of him before waiting for his courier price. Snarly man said one of his angry words before grabbing the vial and handing over two chestnuts, as agreed. Delos chittered in thanks and starts to leave before the Snarly man pulled out another vial and handed it to him. Delos sighed and knew that this must be another of the Moon Woman's orders. The Moon Woman is greedy from time to time, Delos felt used. 

But none the less Delos took the vial and continued on his merry way across town. He took another stop in an alleyway to protect the Lion's cub from some angry men before he continued onward. Usually it only took the smallest twitch of his tail to send people running. Apparently, they feared the Moon Woman and Delos was said to carry her will, or some such weird human concept.

But so Delos continued, vial and chestnuts in mouth, on his way to the Moon woman's den. When Delos could smell the familiar scent of human blood, he knew he was close. Despite their best attempts to cover the scent the two leaders of this human pack were always tainted by the scent of their enemy. He didn't really mind. 

The Lion had been rather shocked when she realized that Delos mainly eats chestnuts, human flesh, and other vegetations and meats. Personally, his favorite body part was the flabby bit under the human's jaw, it's rather squishy when raw and feels great against his gums after chipping away at so many nuts. 

Delos shook out his thoughts and continued on his rampage across the big city's rooftop. The relatively small Ipmu quickly reached the familiar building where Lion and Moon woman live and climbed in through a crack in the door. The crack was actually the result of one of the Moon woman's infrequent rages and Delos was quite proud of how far her hand had gone through the wood. 

He's trained his humans well.

When he entered he saw something that's not so uncommon as of late. The Lion was laid out across the main table with leather wrapped securely around her arms, chest, abdomen and legs. The Moon woman was standing over her with a needle in hand and she was trying to slip it into the Lion's shoulder. However, the Lion's eyes were closed and she seemed to be frantically struggling against her bonds. 

Delos panicked at the struggling and quickly sprung up to the table. Delos crawled over her stomach and chittered at the Moon woman. Delos didn't really know what he was saying but she seemed to think something of it as she turned, put the needle down and extended her hand. Delos plopped the vial into it before he deposited himself as a comforting presence next to Lion's ear. 

Ever since she'd killed Bear man, Lion hadn't been sleeping well and ever so often it got so bad the Moon woman had to do this to her. The Moon woman had tried to explain it to him before, but she didn't really understand either. Delos understood why though, he knew that the Moon woman sometimes had a hard time feeling like the rest of the humans. Delos did too. 

Lion girl thrashed again and Delos licked her cheek, offering some form of comfort. The Moon Woman saw her chance as Lion girl stills and stabs her in the arm with the needle. Delos doesn't really understand what the concoction is but it seems to make Lion girl listen to the Moon woman. Delos doesn't really mind, because then the Lion girl takes him with her on hunts and he gets to eat the fleshy bit, Moon woman doesn't usually feed him the fleshy bit. 

Slowly Delos can see the needle's effect take over as Lion girl's trashing stops, but Delos is a curious creature over a compassionate one, so he stops licking her cheek and walks over to where Moon woman put the needle. He stares at it for a couple of seconds before tentatively pricking his left forepaw on the pointed end. It doesn't hurt much, so Delos does it again and he wonders how Moon woman puts the plants into Lion girl. He's never really paid much attention to the need before. 

Moon woman walks over from where she'd been taking notes on Lion girl's reactions and picks up Delos around his stomach. Absentmindedly Delos realizes that he still has the two chestnuts from snarly man tucked away in his cheek. The Moon woman absentmindedly strokes his back and Delos promptly goes into comfort land and zones out as she makes the weird human noises. 

Delos makes some more chittering sounds and wonders how these humans can all be so stupid. Apparently the Moon woman likes what she hears as she continues petting Delos and walks with him around her den. He watches as she picks at one of the blood stains on Lion girls pelts and then sighs in disappointment. Suddenly he considers learning how to understand human speak, but then he decides they probably have nothing useful to say anyways. 

He and Lion girl can communicate using vague gestures and facial expressions, so that's good enough. 

Suddenly Lion girl grunts behind them and the Moon woman brings him back over to the table. Delos feels sad that the wonderful, wonderful petting has stopped but then the Moon woman starts messing around with her plants again and his interest is captured. She quickly grabs the vial Delos brought her and then sprinkles some of that liquid into a glass of sweet water. She also grabs another vial that's marked with some human symbols before measuring the amount of that into another small vial and then pours that in with the juice. 

Delos watches, fascinated, as she mixes the liquids together and then walks back over to Lion girl. She calmly unties the girl from the table before setting the glass down next to her. Lion girl looks at the glass, and then back to the woman before grabbing the drink and downing it all in one tilt. 

Delos doesn't really understand why that makes it taste any better but none the less he climbs into Lion girl's lap and happily starts gnawing at the two nuts from earlier. 

He can hear Lion girl's faint chuckles as he sprays little shell casings all over the place in his attempt to access the nuts softer core. 

Above him Delos faintly hears the sound of Moon woman talking with Lion girl. That thought about learning the human language returns as he feels Lion girl stiffen and nod to everything the Moon woman says before her eyes go blank and then she's suddenly back to the slightly happy, but mostly just sad, girl he knows and loves. 

Delos' eyes narrow in thought, maybe the Moon woman offers something to the Lion girl like the fleshy bits. Though he's never seen the Lion girl eat fleshy bits... maybe he should share next time. 

Delos happily snuggles in and sorts the issue as resolved, Lion girl gets something from this arrangement and that's why she agrees to the killings. 

* * *

But none the less, five months and two weeks later as Delos is shoved into the familiar sack and left behind as Lion girl kills even more of her kind. He wonders... what does Moon woman have that motivates Lion girl?

As Lion girl swallows familiar pills, Delos wonders... and then he realizes something. 

The Lion girl isn't feeling anymore. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a whole bunch of fan-requests bundled into one in this chapter. There's a POV that isn't Lexa or Clarke, there's an illusion to why Clarke follows Luna, there's a return to my comedy roots.  
> Also, for those wondering, the two drugs I mention in this chapter are in the top 12 most commonly used drugs in torture. So... yeah go google that and concentrate the government's watch list else where.  
> I'm also really, really sorry for how late I'm posting this.  
> How'd you guys like Delos' point of view? I certainly enjoyed his superiority complex xD I hope the nick names are clear... the angry men are guards, Luna's the moon woman, Clarke's a lion and her cub? Well I'm interested in who you guys think that is...  
> Footnote: For those interested in a timeline this takes place 2 weeks after Clarke covered the pavement in blood, as Delos says, so 2 weeks after Libra died.  
> ~FoM
> 
> PS. If I suddenly vanish, we all know who took me.


	12. The Wolf and a Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke likes philosophy

Sometimes, Clarke wonders why life dealt her this hand. The blood of hundreds stain her hands, and sometimes she forgets what smiles are real and which ones are fake.

Sometimes, it becomes too much and Clarke will spend hours trying to wash away the blood before Luna comes to calm her.

Clarke's mission has almost come to a close. There's only one more village left now, twelve days have past. A well of panic rises as she realizes that soon she will have to return to Hali, where mothers glare and their children cheer.

It's strange that driving her dagger through an innocent woman's heart brings her more peace than walking through Hali and having children smile at her in wonder. Clarke ponders what her smile reflects back.

Clarke thinks these small pieces of philosophy as she continues sailing further north up the coastline. Delos is secured below deck in a mound of furs. Clarke tightens her cloak around her and shivers. One more village, three more days. Then she has to return, to the horror, to the happiness. Clarke wonders through the boredom. There really isn't much to do while drifting up the coast on a steady draft. Even if the wind does suddenly shift Clarke has enough experience that tacking and controlling both the main sheet and the rudder comes naturally.

Clarke wonders for hours, until she decides that Luna is her mother, so if she thinks Clarke needs to kill, she will. Clarke is reminded then of Abby, sweet doctoring Abby. She wonders if Abby would be proud of her. She takes care of her people, keeps them warm and fed and smiling. Abby should be proud! But she wouldn't be. She'd look at Clarke and see only a mistake. She'd look at Clarke and it wouldn't be her daughter that she saw.

Clarke shoves off the thought. Abby is dead to her. She's probably completely content in space with Jaha hanging off her every word and Kane praising her sacrifice. She probably isn't thinking about the husband and daughter she betrayed.

Abby is dead to her, Clarke decides. Though Luna's drug tampering had managed to block out most of Clarke's Arc memories the rampant thoughts of Abby and her smile still returned. Luna had wanted to block out all of her memories of Libra as well, but Clarke needed them. She needed the memory of her knife digging into Libra's skin over and over in order to remain strong.

Clarke is proud of being a monster. Because she's Luna's monster.

Her wonderings are brought to a merry halt as smoke one again appears on the sunset. Clarke promises to revel in this kill, for Lexa. She may be a stuck up child most of the time, but she's broken. Clarke knows the feeling. She decides to leave Delos here, he's more content out of the cold.

Clarke climbs up to the bow to ensure her feet are dry, before climbing off the boat and securing it to land. She waits for dark, when her clothing will blend in most, before setting off into the trees. Normally she has Delos to guide her and thus can cross through the trees almost as fast as she can across the ground. However, with Delos gone Clarke has to test all the branches herself and it takes nearly twice as long.

The tree trip is worth it as the shock from her appearance is always fresh. A quick check as the moonlight reflects off a patroller's weapon ensures that the last flag is tucked into her belt before she sets off. Her right foot pushes off against the solid trunk of a maple tree before her katana meets the offending patrollers neck and Diana is thrown into his partner's eye.

Clarke feels a shiver of delight in her spine at the squelching sound of Diana being pulled out of the woman's eye socket. She climbs back up the maple tree before continuing on her way. She meets two more patrols on the way, both meet the same fate as the first, and then the tree line empties to reveal a burning pyre in the middle of the town.

Clarke tilts her head at the weird tradition, normally Azkru throw their dead into the sea, before a horn is blown behind her.

Clarke swears mentally, they know she's here.

"Come out! Oh great Smile! Reveal to us your plight!" The weird call emerges from a red-clad priest standing on a podium behind the pyre.

Clarke decides to have fun, might as well make a priest's day while she's at it. So she jumps down from the tree, and draws her hood over her face to conceal her bright hair. A familiar smile draws itself to her lips, before she walks into the small village. The townspeople had gathered when they heard the priest's call and now backed away as she made her way through the crowd. She still wears the winter armor soaked in Libra's blood, and her legend increases as the scent stale blood follows her path. The crowd is silent as the grave as she walks through the gap they'd revealed.

Luna had set out to protect her people by giving them a legendary guardian. In Hali there are festivals dedicated to her kills on the full moon. Outside of Hali, she's a story used to shush children and inspire armies. 'The Smile will take you' is an expression commonly used amongst the Azkru to warn their children against misbehaving. It strikes Clarke that for a legend renown all across the world for being ruthless, she really looks the opposite without her hood and armor.

"I have come, Priest of Red, why do you summon me?" Clarke decides to play along. She'd promised Lexa, in spirit, to revel in this kill.

"Why oh great spirit of souls, do you kill our people?"

"I give no reasons for my orders. Mistress asked it of me. Who am I, a lowly servant of Mania, to reveal my mistress' will?" Another part of the rumor, that Clarke loved to foster, was that Luna is the embodiment of the goddess Mania, though it's unknown if anyone actually knows who Mania is outside of Hali. It's bizarre how a village known for it's trade suffers from almost no leaks of information.

"Of course oh great Smile! But please, accept our offering... we offer this village as sacrifice. Please, spare the rest of our people!" Clarke's eyes widen. She notices then, the patrollers were all elderly, with many scars and sickness written across their faces.

She looks around as if appraising her prey. There are no children in this town. There are no seconds or fresh warriors. There are no young, there are only souls with saddened eyes and stalwart expressions.

"Who makes this offer?"

"Queen Aela, wolf warrior of the Azkru," I'm surprised then. The red priest steps away from the fire, and a woman wearing old fashioned, and revealing, armor steps forward. Clarke can see harsh lines drawn across her face in warpaint. Her hair is revealed to be red in the candlelight and Clarke can feel her heart speed up. She shoves the faint attraction into the back of her mind.

A predatory grin emerges from the false one, "I've always wanted a wolf. Tell me Aela, why is it that a Queen stands amongst her elderly, and offers her life as sacrifice?"

"I speak not the wills of my masters, just the same as you," Aela wears a remarkable mask, but Clarke can see the faint shaking of her hands through the flames.

Clarke takes a leisurely stroll around the fire, "I thought Queens bow only to their Kings."

"I thought the same, until one of the Trikru Queens begged on her knees for my mercy," Clarke steps up onto the small podium to stare into Aela's eyes. Aela attempts to look away, but Clarke grasps her chin and tilts her own head back so Aela can see her eyes under the hood.

"Mania frowns upon those who beg."

"As do my masters," Clarke's grin turns to a smirk.

"So the wolf has claws as well as a tail!"

"The wolf also grows tired of this game."

"Oh! But I was just getting to know you, wise warrior queen."

Aela's eyes narrow at her, "Why get to know someone you will just end up killing?"

"Because the other Trikru queen sends her regards. But I look out for my own above all others."

Aela's head tilts at her in question, Clarke suddenly wonders why she finds the expression both cute and frightening. Clarke realizes that Aela's expression is much the same as her own when examining a fine piece of prey, "I see not what that has to do with my coming execution, Smile."

"But it has everything to do with your execution, for now it doesn't have to happen," Aela's head tilts in question at this.

Clarke considers what she's about to do. Aela makes for excellent conversation, not to mention that red hair and predatory eyes make her a unique beauty. Clarke can see wisdom within her grey eyes. Her words carry the weight of a true leader, and Clarke would probably follow her just as faithfully as Luna if she'd fallen from the sky only a hundred miles further north.

Clarke turns to the crowd. She knows what Luna would do, but for once she decides that her own solution will function better. She searches the faces of all the weary souls gathered around her, and makes an offer,

"Mania has spoken! She has observed your sacrifice and declared it unnecessary! I have heard news though, of a war brewing. Mania is no war goddess, and thus she requests peace. In return for sparing your lives, I will take Queen Aela with me and guarantee her safe passage through the ocean. Together, we will join the Commander on her path for peace amongst all clans! No more blood needs to be spilt today!"

Aela's eyes sparkle in wonder, and Clarke knows that she's made the right choice.

For a second I wonder if she knew him. If she knew Libra, before he went traitor. I can see another face, very similar to Aela's. Another young leader with an animal spirit drifting afloat without someone to guide them. Lexa's anguished face is brought to mind. The missed vengeance will hurt her, but it is a sacrifice she will have to make. Hundreds of Azkru have already payed in blood, there is no further need for it.

Above all, letting this war continue would harm my people more than aide them. As I watch Aela's mask break into a smile, I realized that she understood the same.

I offer my gloved, blood stained, metal hand out to Aela, and the Wolf Queen becomes the first to shake hands with a guardian spirit. As her eyes sparkle and a small grin forms on her lips from the weird twist of events, I feel a shift.

She smiles just like Libra and Wells did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy high horse wearing a tutu!
> 
> Now who saw that alliance coming?
> 
> Ik Ik... I'm sorry that the chapter's late again.
> 
> Questions? Feedback? Random things you want me to add? Tell me em and I'll respond, though I can't promise that you'll like what you hear.
> 
> ~FoM
> 
> PS. Yes Aela is a huntress... and yes I was playing Skyrim before I wrote this chapter.


	13. Names and the Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delos has a diary

Aela sits snuggled into the furs with Delos sprawled happily across her stomach and Clarke occasionally glancing her way. Clarke watches the sacrificial town fade into the background as she sails further and further away the morning after the deal. She’d stayed the night on board her ship and at dawn she’d sailed to shore and picked up Aela. The Wolf Queen was standing there with a bag stuffed full of ceremonial armor slung across her shoulders, her red hair flowing free and the angry lines scrubbed from her face. She’s wearing the same armor she was wearing last night, slightly old fashioned and incredibly revealing. Clarke feels a shiver mount her spine as she imagines wearing the same outfit, truly frosty.

The second she’d stepped aboard Clarke had shoved her into the hold and showered her in animal pelts. Never let it be said that Clarke doesn’t look after her investments. 

And so now she waited. Clarke could feel the almost glare concentrating on her face. But the glare was weathered with a keen sense of interest, Clarke still hadn’t revealed her face.

“What’s your name?"

Clarke starts at the question, she had not been expecting the Queen to build up her courage quite yet.

“I believe your people are fond of calling me Smiley or Bloody Smile"

“Not your title, your name."

Clarke glances down to see Aela tilting her head slightly in question. She decides the expression can only be described as adorable, “The fur ball is Delos, my friends can call me Clarke."

Aela nods and strokes Delos idly, "A lovely name, though it is not common amongst my people."

It's Clarke's turn to tilt her head in question, "I see not how a name can be lovely."

Aela smiles and sways gently with the small sailboat as the wind rocks it from side to side, "Names carry weight. My Father often speaks of souls, and names are but a small glimpse of them."

Clarke nods and focuses on riding out a quick burst of wind for a minute. Returning to the conversation she speaks, "Your Father sounds wise. What do you see of my soul?"

Aela continues stroking Delos with her callused hands. Delos purrs and chitters at her as she pauses for a second to respond, "I see sadness. There's a raw, bleeding wound wrapped in tattered bandages but fated never to heal. Under the wound is a cowering healer, with paint brush in hand," Aela pauses to tap Delos gently on the head before petting him once more, "Your soul is a proud lion, with yellow mane flowing in the wind and scars speaking of many battles."

Clarke nods and smiles at Delos' obvious love of the warrior Queen, "An apt description."

Aela nods and smiles, "How long shall we journey for?"

"A day or so, depends on how much your weight slows us down."

She gasps, faking shock before returning to gentle study of Delos, "I can see it in your eyes you know," She gently moves Delos so he can sit atop her shoulders, "I can see the pain every time you won't meet my eyes," She moves forward and kneels before Clarke, "I can feel every flinch as you glance towards your upper arm," Aela grasps Clarke's hands and gently runs her thumb across her knuckles, "What happened to you?"

"Life," Clarke wrenches her hands away from Aela's grasp. Aela moves forwards and shoves Clarke's hood back from her face. Clarke jerks backwards and falls to the floor of the ship as Aela continues moving forward with her and traps her with one hand upon her shoulder and the other gently caressing her face. 

"The other queen spoke of you as she crawled on her knees, you know. She told of the Smile and her birth from the Mother Moon. I didn't expect you to be so beautiful."

Clarke's face flushes as she feels those dastardly teenage hormones arise from the corner where Luna had pushed them, "I didn't expect for you to be so flirtatious."

Aela smiles down at her, and lowers herself down to whisper in Clarke's ear, "It comes with the territory."

Clarke sees her moment and hooks her ankle around Aela's. A quick budge to the side and Aela is thrown to the left and Clarke crouches above her body.

Aela's smile turns into a smirk, "So you are the first mate. I'd heard rumors of the Mother taking a child but I didn't know that smiles come from the moon."

Clarke sits up and gestures for Delos to come from where he'd scampered off to during the interaction, "They don't."

* * *

Luna sits next to Lexa as she twitches and struggles, held back only by the strong restraints, "Just let it go child, just let it all go." 

A strong gust of wind brings a dying leaf to her feet. Luna reaches down and quickly grabs the leaf off the floor. Twirling it around she sees some strange scratching marks etched across one side. 

If she'd been able to read Ipmusleng, she'd know that it reads,

_'Dear Diary,_

_Lion girl has left again. Her and Moon woman went off on an adventure and left me with a pile of fleshy bits to munch on. I sometimes hear scratching on the roof but it's probably just trees. The cat next door screeches at night and I kinda want to shove a paw down it's miserable throat._

_Asides from the cat all of my neighbors are untrained humans. They even bow before me as if I am a god! Ha! The fools don't realize that a pat on the head is the correct gesture of worship._

_Sometimes I tire of their company. Lion girl does provide a lot of fleshy bits though._

_Diary, do you know how awesome fleshy bits are? Because not even peanuts can compare!_

_The cat is screeching again,_

  
__~ Delos_ _

* * *

Lincoln sits in Hali's medicine tent with Indra hovering over his shoulder. With Lexa busy mourning Costia, Lincoln and Indra have taken over negotiations. Bugi, the brown haired, slim boy that follows Clarke around is dressing his wounds with a scowl. The Ice Queen's warriors had overwhelmed him with numbers, even the mightiest of warriors falls before the might of an army. Indra had wanted to hover over Lexa, but loyalty and friendship won out over her instincts. Plus Luna's there, so no harm shall come of it. 

Indra starts pacing, her breath fast and soaked in frustration, "Why did she attack? The Ice Queen knows that the 11 other clans have banded together and will destroy her for this!'

"Calm yourself Indra, we know why she did it."

"Messages are delivered through messengers Lincoln! Not destroyed ships, dead bodies and decapitated heads!"

"Mothers do many things to protect their children. Perhaps she didn't think the message could get across any other way."

Indra continues pacing but places her hand on her sword as she speaks, "Jus drein jus daun! They shall pay for this attack!"

"Clarke's set to return today, the Azkru have already paid much in the way of blood."

Indra seems to relax at the mention of her new friend, "I've heard the rumors, but somehow I doubt that even Clarke would be able to kill 5 villages on her own."

Bugi speaks up then, his eyes shadowed by his long bangs, "Don't doubt Clarke, she kills everyone Luna asks her too. Be it friend or foe."

Lincoln glances at the angry child before returning his attention to his pacing friend, "Have faith in her, Luna has trusted Clarke since she was but a child."

Indra sighs and plops herself down on a second stool next to the hammock, "It's hard sometimes."

Bugi speaks once more, "It doesn't get easier."

The two seasoned warriors ponder what made the boy so angry before a warrior horn rings out over Hali. 

Shouts outside reveal the reason behind the summons, "Clarke brought the Queen!"

Indra's hand tightens around her sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update! I joined a rugby team so free time is somewhat more scarce now.  
> Aela and Clarke are back in Hali! Indra and Lincoln are besties! Luna and Lexa are up to something! I really suck at writing romance!!!  
> Anyways, tell me what you think and I should be updating again next week
> 
> Heres some more questions a lot of you guys have been asking:
> 
> Who/What is Delos?  
> He's a mutant chipmunk. Roughly 3/4 the size of the average forearm and with fangs. He also suffers from an obsession with sarcasm. 
> 
> Am I a beaver?  
> Yes, I have no idea why so many people asked me this. I am a Canadian :l
> 
> Will I ever write something remotely happy into this story?  
> Probably, I'm trying. The thing is, fluff is really hard for me to write. You'll probably get some comedic Delos moments and rather cute Clexa or Aela/Clarke (Anyone have a ship name? Smiley Queen? Ice Smile? I don't know I usually just jump on the bandwagon for these things...) but otherwise this world is dark. I wouldn't say that it's pitch black, but its down there in the depths of the shade scale. It can and will get darker. I am considering making a series of omakes that I've cut from the original story for being a bit too cracky.
> 
> Do I write all of these questions myself?  
> Yeah, but they're a mashup of all the comments, reviews, advice from my sister, and pms I get. 
> 
> I don't think I've ever mentioned how thankful I am for how much support this story is getting! Thank you to everyone who comments, favorites and yells at me to get off my butt when I'm being lazy!!  
> ~FoM
> 
> P.S. Luna's complicated, thanks for asking.


	14. The Judgement and The Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean has dirty thoughts

Clarke has donned her standardized Floudonkru armor once more as wind fills their sails and carries Clarke, Delos and Aela to shore. Along the shoreline the various residents of Hali have gathered with smiles plastered onto their faces and their arms flapping joyfully.

Clarke raises her arm and hoists a blood red flag into the air. The last of Luna's flags were stashed on the border of the sacrificial village for a patrol to find. At the sight of the flag cheers erupt from the shore. Clarke smiles and Delos chitters happily from his perch on her shoulder guard. Aela steps up behind Clarke and smiles at the crowd.

The boat gently floats to shore, and upon landing Clarke jumps off before handing the flag to a strong, bulky brown haired boy, who'd been waiting there obediently. She turns, and offers a hand to Aela, who smiles and takes it. A soft jump later and Aela finds herself standing just behind Clarke once again as she leads them through the crowd.

The crowd parts in front of them, and Aela can see small children giggling and cheering in the front rows with many warriors standing near them. However, the children are all watched closely by elderly farmers and merchants, and the warriors seem to cheer more out of fear than true joy. She wonders why this is, is Clarke not a revered hero here? Why is it that Clarke's own people seem to fear her?

A small girl launches herself out of the crowd and Clarke steps back under the power of her tackle hug. Delos quickly jumps from Clarke to the girl and seems rather monstros while sitting on the girl's shoulder. Aela smiles softly as the girl proceeds to shower question after question upon the deadly assassin. A smile softer than any of the others Aela has seen crosses her face, and she wonders just who this child is.

"No, I didn't see any whales this time. No, Delos didn't save an Azkru warrior from jail and take him on as servant before the warrior displeased him and thus Delos pushed him into a volcano. Yes, I had a good time. No, Bugi didn't come with me this time. Yes, Delos does hate the cold and he did miss you. No, Aela isn't a pleasure slave taken from an ancient civilization of warriors that refused to pay me a favor. Who's stuffing your mind full of this nonsense?"

The small girl grins up at Clarke and the crowd seems to fade to the background for the two girls as she giggles, "Sorry Clarke, Sienna tells such good stories!"

Clarke's eyes flash as she finds her answer, "So Sienna's the one corrupting my beloved Jean is she?"

Jean's eyes widen, "No! No! Please don't use your incredible powers on poor, poor Sienna!"

Clarke chuckles, "Alright, though I demand a price in return for your favor."

"Anything!"

"Let me read you a bedtime story!"

Aela giggles at the ridiculousness of the relationship. Jean's a small, pale girl, probably not even 7 years of age, and yet Clarke seems to bow to her every whim. Delos chitters and tangles himself in Jean's curly blonde hair, "I have to go see Mother now, can you look after Delos for me? Make sure not to feed him too much steak, he's getting spoiled!"

Jean smiles and nods before kissing Clarke on the cheek and vanishing into the crowd with Delos.

"Sorry about that, Jean was the daughter of one of my late crewmembers. I've been looking after her for the past six months since Elska was killed by a traitor," Aela smiles and nods, though when she looks Clarke in the eye once more she sees a darkness returning, a darkness she'd never thought the assassin capable of. Though such was probably stupid in reflection. You don't get a nickname as telling as 'Bloody Smile' without going to some really dark places.

Clarke continues leading Aela through the crowded and celebrating streets of Hali. No more children throw themselves out of the crowd but Clarke does stop and yell at a woman named Sienna for a couple of minutes before moving on.

They finally stop at a small, forgettable building with boards over the windows. The house seems incredibly out of place amongst the stylish buildings that otherwise litter the 8th segment, though it seems to suit Clarke and the mysterious Mother Luna rather well. Clarke steps through first, opening the beaten door and holding it open for Aela.

A plethora of characters greet Aela when she steps through behind Clarke.

A blond, almost platinum haired woman sits in a lounge chair in the standard Floudonkru armor by the door. Next to her, is a dark skinned woman with a scar upon her face, and one hand gripping her sword. A strong man stands behind her, his face blank. However, Aela's true attention is on the woman sitting on the center table. Her back is turned away from Aela but the two matching tattoos agree, this is the Commander.

Clarke closes the door behind Aela before walking over to the Commander and gently wrapping her in a hug. Aela feels a tinge of jealousy as Clarke murmurs sweetly into the Commander's ear. Her attention focuses once more upon Luna, and her posture stiffens as she bows before her host.

"Welcome, Wolf Queen Aela, I apologise for the impromptu meeting, but I was unaware of your visit."

"It's no matter Luna, if such is a name I can call you"

"It is, formalities are truly troublesome sometimes."

"My masters wish for peace."

The dark-skinned woman snorts though the man quiets her with a hand upon her shoulder.

"Peace is a fickle thing, Aela. If you has asked but 15 days ago I would have accepted, however your actions speak differently from your words. You attacked not only my people, but Lexa's as well. Such is a crime that shall not be forgiven easily."

"The same can be said of you. You've murdered thousands of my people!"

Luna scoffs, "I take only what you yourself have taken."

"5 of my villages gone for the price of one of your ships! I see not how those two are equal!"

"Your villages hold only farmers, your warriors and tradesmen are hidden back in your capital. However, our ships hold dignitaries, warriors, tradesmen, farmers, husbands, wives and children. Our ships are worth hundreds of your villages."

Aela huffs and she can feel Clarke glancing her way before she returns to her murmurs, "All lives are equal in value!"

"No, lives are valued by their ability to save, create and foster even more lives."

Aela's anger turns into desperation, "Then what is it you want! My people won't survive another war, we need this peace."

Luna turns her hand and begins fiddling with a blue band of glass and metal wrapped around her left middle finger, "Shame isn't it. How our actions bite solely us in the end. You have nothing to offer us. I won't accept your peace, but there is another with more claim than I. You see, in Hali... it is the victim who passes the judgement."

Aela's eyes widen, and she feels her inexperience come into play as horror swirls in her gut. Clarke's murmurs stop, and a hoarse voice enters the discussion, "You killed her."

Aela targets the source as the hunched woman sitting on the table. Clarke stands and offers her hand to the Commander much the same way she'd done earlier in order to aid Aela down from her ship.

"You killed Costia. You killed her," the horror rises through Aela and she almost wants to vomit as haunted eyes turn to her own. The commander's hair is loose and limp around her face, and her eyes are red with dark shadows under them. Her face is pale, and tears are clearly marked down her face. Clarke's non-gloved hand gently strokes her shoulder and the dark-skinned woman has stealthily drawn her sword.

"Let it go Lexa, let it all go," Clarke's murmurs start once more.

Lexa's mouth twists, and the pronounced frown that emerges shatters all Aela's hope of survival.

"Clarke?" Lexa's voice turns from murderous to desperate at the flip of a coin.

"Yes?"

"Bring me her head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOIHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  
> I decided that since I didn't have rugby today (Easter and all that) I'd post a chapter! There should still be another chapter tomorrow, I couldn't very well leave you on this wonderful cliff hanger could I?  
> What'd you guys think of Lexa's transformation? She'll be better soon, I promise!  
> Clarkela/Blood Queen/Claela are currently tied for #1 name for this ship, I'm super happy that none of the 3 are mine.  
> Delos got kidnapped by Jean? Who remembers Elska and omg he had a kid? Whos the mother? (I honestly don't know, I just needed a kid, and Elska's dead... so... please help?)  
> See you guys tomorrow! (or read? write? i don't know... fanfiction tenses are weird)  
> ~FoM


	15. The Head and the Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beheading is hard

Clarke steps through the door of her home, and smiles softly at the fist shaped hole where Luna had unleashed her anger one night after a few too many drinks. It makes for a wonderful peephole, though it has to be stuffed with furs for insulation during the winter. Clarke steps aside and allows Aela to step into the room.

She shuts the door behind the Wolf Queen before hurrying over to Lexa's side. The Commander is sitting with her knees dangly limply off the edge of the table, and Clarke can remember the position being one she'd often taken after his betrayal. Slowly, she reaches out and wraps an arm around Lexa's shoulders before drawing her head against Clarke's bloodsoaked chestguard.

"How are you feeling?"  
"Like branwada," Clarke grins at the mumbled response. Both of their words are hushed so as not to interrupt the negotiations occurring next to them.

"That's good, it means you're getting better."

"I'm never going to BE better Clarke."

"Never say never, it'll fade Lexa. That's what the dreams are for, it makes it so that your subconscious battles it out first and then your full consciousness can weed out the pain and eradicate it. Just let it all go Lexa, just let it go."

"She's gone Clarke, she's gone!" Lexa's voice is anguished and Clarke sighs before pressing a kiss to the top of her head and holding the mourning, shattered woman close to her chest.

"Just because she's gone doesn't mean that you need to vanish too. I've loved many men and women in my short life and lost more of them, yet I'm still here."

"But you're you, you're the mighty Clarke of the Bloody Smile, slayer of thousands and haunter of nightmares!"

"You're starting to sound like the children! I'm still a shattered child Lexa, I'm still like you, the only difference is that I've moved past it. You'll get through this Lexa, and you'll be better for it in the end."

Lexa sniffles, and Clarke just murmurs gentle nothings into her hair as both warriors listen to the ongoing negotiations.

Both girls stiffen as they hear Aela's final protestation, "Then what is it you want! My people won't survive another war, we need this peace."

"What path will you walk, Lexa?" The final question is whispered into Lexa's hair, and the girl stiffens further as Luna makes her final argument.

"Neither," Clarke grins at the answer before standing and offering Lexa her hand. Lexa smoothly accepts it and as she steps forward to confront the murderer of her lover, Clarke moves to stand behind her supportively.

"You killed Costia, you killed her!" Lexa's accusation is husky, and desperate. Her voice is hoarse from the constant sobbing and the screams of pain that have surely ripped through her body thousand fold these past 15 days.

"Let it go Lexa, let it all go." Clarke steps up behind her Commander and gently runs the ungloved hand over her shoulder, Lexa shivers under the touch.

Clarke smiles as Lexa frowns, "Clarke?"

Clarke's gloved hand reaches for the sword sheathed across her back, "Yes?"

Lexa's voice quivers on her next demand, "Bring me her head."

"As you wish," Clarke's answer is followed with the unsheathing of her sword and a step towards the horror struck queen. Aela's eyes widen and she backs up to the door. Clarke smiles as the proud queen crumbles before her, "Did you truly think that Mania would ignore such a fine sacrifice?"

Clarke raises her sword and slices open a long cut on Aela's shin. Luna grins and splays her hands open in front of her face from where she sits on her throne, "It may be the victim that passes judgement, but it is the first mate that deals out the sentence."

Clarke slowly slices open another cut above Aela's elbow as she brings her hands up to cover her head.

"Tell your masters Mania said hello," With that final goodbye Clarke raises her short sword once more and slices into Aela's head from the side unprotected by her hands. The sword only makes it partway through her neck but it's enough for the light to fade out of her eyes and Clarke wrenches the queens hands away from her head. A vindictive smile crosses her face as she swings her sword again and again into the side of Aela's neck, slowly cutting through the muscles, bone and organs that dwell there.

Blood splatters across the living room, and Indra smiles in approval at the new decorations. Blood splatters across Clarke's face and she smiles the same true smile only murderers know well. Finally, Aela's head has fully detached from her body and Clarke turns back to Lexa. Lincoln catches her eye during her turn and she can see the disapproving look on his face. However, Luna's smile and Indra's happy grin reassure her of her actions' truth and so her turn continues.

Lexa's face is haunted, and yet content as Clarke steps towards her. Clarke kneels before her new master, and holds Aela's horrified head out before her. Her hand tangled in the lovely red hair she'd admired but days earlier.

"I promised you that I'd enjoy it."

Lexa nods, and Clarke can see a new mask forming as her eyes draw together and a soft glint appears in her eyes.

"I see that you've both made your decisions," Luna's voice rings true, and suddenly all those present are reminded as to who truly holds the power in Hali.

"We have," Clarke smiles at her mother. Lexa reaches out and grabs Aela's hair from Clarke.

"I have made many decisions these past 15 days. The most recent of which being the path I shall follow." Luna's smile widens at this news.

"Oh? And what path shall you follow?"

"Neither." Luna's smile seems to split her face as she takes in the put together mask Lexa seems to be holding. However, her white-knuckled grip on Aela's hair speaks of her slipping control, and so Luna turns to Indra and Lincoln and requests that they leave their company. A short nod from Lexa verifies the order, and the two warriors leave.

Clarke stands and wraps her arms around Lexa once more, "A brave decision. May I ask why you chose the path that so few follow?"

"Because it's hard, and sometimes I want to curl up and sob for multiple hours on a boat out in the sunset," Clarke chuckles as she remembers the events 15 days ago, prior to all the drama with Costia, "But I'm the Commander. I may be a child thrown into a world she knows nothing about, but I am a warrior too. Love shall be my strength," Clarke smiles, maybe the idiot child had been listening every time she'd offered a chastise, "Costia wanted only for me to be happy, she loved me, and it would be a shame to let her legacy go to waste."

Clarke nuzzles into Lexa's neck. A soft smile gliding across her lips.

Luna nods, "Do you want the head?"

Lexa tilts her head in question, "What?"

"Aela's head, do you want it?"

Lexa's eyebrows furrow, "Why?"

"Because it'd serve as an excellent deterrent to any Ice Nation raiding parties, I wish to hang it in the 6th segment."

Clarke smiles, "Can I mount it?"

Lexa shakes her head, amused at this mother daughter duo's ability to distract her from her mourning, "Keep the head. I'm going to bed."

Clarke smiles before taking the head from Lexa and gently squeezing her into one more awkward side hug before leaving.

Lexa looks to Luna before she heads out the door as well, probably to track down Bugi once more.

Luna smiles as both girls leave. She remains in her throne, and gently turns a beautiful ring made of blue tinted metal and glass around her left middle finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's Clarke's version of events. Though it does continue on with Aela's death and what happens after that.   
> What'd you guys think? What on earth is it that Luna is drugging Lexa and Clarke with? What's the big deal with this choice thing?  
> Will I ever stop asking questions and hoping for you guys to review more and give me answers?   
> (The answer is no)  
> I tried to be a little comedic at the end, did it work?   
> Also, I'll see how busy I am next week and I'll try to fit in another chapter before next Sunday.   
> ~FoM


	16. Departure and Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GRUMPY MAN RETURNSSSSS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, had to put this at the start too because the answers were too long to fit in the end note, though I did promise to put them all this chapter's note.  
> Can you explain the whole Revenge/Redemption thingie and how Lexa and Clarke fit into that stuff?  
> Sure!  
> Redemption is indeed the act of saving/being saved and vengeance is also violent revenge. I chose these two words for reasons that Luna will reveal later. Clarke's decision to step down the path of neither is spurred on by the utter rage she felt at the betrayal of Libra, Wells, Jaha, and Abby. However, without Luna's presence and the calming words Luna speaks into her ear almost nightly, she'd have walked the path of vengeance. Clarke even considered walking the path of vengeance anyways just to spite Abby. The dead are gone and the living are hungry is the key phrase that currently dominates Clarke's character. I've said multiple times that right behind Clarke's loyalty to Luna, is her utter adoration of her people. She may hate the looks they give her, but that's just a natural reaction to the fear they respond with. She knows that all the children who currently love her will grow to despise her but months later when their parents' words finally stick in. So yeah, she does want to save and be ruthless but a lot of things influenced her sway to either side.   
> Lexa's reasonings are simpler, she can't abandon her people. As Commander she's seen what revenge looks like. She knows that while it may satisfy her for a while, it will eventually destroy her. However, it is still something she needs, and as such she leans to that path. But redemption is a life she can't live either. Again, as Commander she already donates herself completely to the cause of her people. And as she donates herself she must make sure that her image is still satisfactory. Her people must love and fear her simultaneously, donating herself to either path would throw the other out of balance. She must be both angelic and bloodthirsty, this forces her down the path of neither.
> 
>  
> 
> Why did Clarke and Lexa go from enemies to friends so fast? I thought Clarke wasn't a huggy person?  
> Clarke isn't really a hug person, but it's what was required of her. Lexa's bond with Clarke left off 4-5 chapters ago with Clarke comforting her at the first shattering, and then Luna moving up to comfort her after the second. Clarke went through many of the same breakdowns, and the kinship is key here. This Clarke is a person who sees a lot of others in everyone she meets. She saw Wells in Libra, and then Libra in Aela. She sees Abby and Jake in Luna and she sees Bugia in Bugi (Bet you forgot about the drama with those two...)  
> She sees her 12 year-old self in Lexa, and this changes the way she reacts to the situation drastically. If she hadn't lost Jake, she'd have tossed Lexa aside as broken. Not only is she emotionally attached to Lexa due to their shared experiences, she sees an opportunity. Behind Luna, Clarke's care and love is focused solely on her people. She loves her people more than she loves herself. This is why she kills so often, this is why she listens to Luna no matter what, this is why she killed Aela. This is currently her one driving factor. She wears masks like she wears shirts. This was proven by both her blood smile and her jokester attitude with Lexa. Her love for her people drives her to do horrible, horrible things. Yet, it also makes her see the potential of an alliance with Lexa. She was the person behind the Coalition. She's the mastermind behind all of this peace. Yes, Luna may have been the one to plant the love in her mind. Yes, Luna did drive her to thinking that the people are supreme, but Clarke was the one behind trusting Lexa. She obviously hates the Trikru's superiority, but she knows that Lexa's authority will make or break her peoples' survival.  
> Clarke's hugginess is brought about both by her desire to tether Lexa to this alliance, and Lexa's resemblance to her younger self.  
> However, another important facet of this relationship is Lexa's total shattering. She's searching for any form of comfort and Clarke never truly revealed herself as a threat, sure Luna may have threatened her WITH Clarke, but Clarke never made any motions of fright. Clarke told things to her flat out and revealed things that even Indra shied away from.  
> There's also the significance of the last line 'Costia would have wanted me to be happy'. Costia's death will push Lexa to do many things. In one world it pushed people away so that she couldn't be hurt, but in this one it taught her to pull people in so that she can love them before they leave. Costia wasn't in her presence when she shattered because she sent her away. In her mind Costia's death is entirely her own fault, if she had loved her more maybe Costia would've stayed with her and she'd still be alive.

The next day, with a familiar head freshly mounted atop a spike near the 6th pier, Jean's sad. She's sad because Clarke just got back and now she's leaving again! Even worse, she's taking Delos with her! So, Jean stands on the dock with Tort as the bearded, stocky man comfortingly attempts to pat her head. Clarke's ship is rolling with the waves in front of them. Atop the deck Sewell, Kazu, Smit, Kormon, Dacy and Ariel are all goofing off and moving cargo. Brigs and Tide are off with Bugi in the market doing stupid warrior things.

Clarke's new friend, Lexa, is going with her, stupid Commander and her stupid authority. Jean doesn't understand why Clarke keeps on having to leave her behind. She's good with a sword... alright with a sword... terrible at everything involving combat.

It's not her fault that Sienna's a horrible teacher and Mom ran off with some stuck-up branwada Trikru!

Stupid Trikru and their stupid way of ruining EVERYTHING!

Sono sees young Jean's anger and speaks, "She'll be back eventually."

Jean bristles, "I don't want her back eventually! I want her now!"

Tort chuckles, "Calm yourself Jean, soon you'll be of age for training and maybe then Clarke will take you on the grand adventures Sienna has stuffed into your head."

Jean's mood flips and she dances from foot to foot as she remembers stories of lions, and ambushes! AND BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES!

* * *

Clarke wakes up that morning to the wonderful feeling of Mother's hand running through her hair.

Luna's standing next to Clarke's hammock and grins as their eyes meet, "Morning sleepyhead. You have work to do."

With that final pronouncement she detangles her hand and leaves to go make breakfast. Clarke scoffs before climbing out of the hammock and putting on her armor.

The short journey to the kitchen brings with it a stubbed toe as Clarke doesn't see the small box of apples laying outside Luna's room. She smiles at her Mother's love of the fruit before cursing her bad luck.

Upon opening the door, Clarke is greeted by a few chunks of shell from Delos as he happily goes through a small bowl of peanuts on his perch near the door. He'd returned to the house in the middle of the night after Sienna found him in her underwear drawer. Or at least that's the running theory.

Clarke brushes the shell chips off her shoulder before sitting at the dining room table. Luna's busying herself across the room making breakfast.

"The Azkru won't be happy about Aela's death," Clarke chuckles at Luna's pronouncement.

"Aela was due to die anyways, she and all the others in that village were sick," Luna continues chopping up lettuce.

"Shame, it's been rather boring as of late,"

"Shame indeed. I've always wanted to sail into battle on board Jus en Klaka,"

"War or no war, the opportunity has arisen. Lincoln must still return to Polis and Ton DC as was requested before all this nonsense,"

"I'll escort him then. We don't want Aela's Masters to show themselves too soon."

"You have another duty. Lexa and Indra must journey north, and end this conflict before it truly begins. However, you raise a good point."

Clarke nods, such casual pre-breakfast planning is commonplace with this company, "Bugi shall escort Lincoln on Daun Klaka then. Which ship shall I take? One of the Faya Fou?"

"You shall sail Jus en Klaka. I fear that my bones tire of the sea."

"Mom! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"It's a new development. Sometimes life throws your old age flat in your face just as true happiness seems within reach."

Clarke sighs, "I trust I must make the arrangements then?"

"If you must, though I don't think I'll fall apart that quickly."

Clarke nods, and the two quiet as Luna lays two simple sandwiches on the table.

Clarke finishes first, and stands to leave. But first she speaks, "I love you, Mom," she signals to Delos and the two leave together.

* * *

Luna stands and moves back to her bedroom. She picks up the crate of apples and winces as her back troubles her. She lays the crate next to her desk, and sits down. She sorts through some papers, before twisting the glass ring around her finger a few times. She contemplates a title. Softly, she smiles before beginning.

* * *

Clarke walks quickly through town. Her eyes downcast but further tells are hidden. Luna's probably already informed everyone else of the travelling plans so that's not a concern. Clarke's purpose lies in a small apothecary hidden in the slums of the 1st segment. The long walk's troublesome sometimes, but right now Clarke needs to think.

Luna had told her about the arrangements a long while ago, but she'd always thought herself to be the one who'd need them. Sorrow seeps into her soul, soon responsibility would weigh heavily upon Clarke's shoulders. However, such sorrow is shoved far into the back of her mind as she focuses on her task.

Then that task is covered up by glancing around and observing the small huts, and gardens of the fourth segment. When she's walked through the small sliver, though it leads to a much larger system of farms further north west of Hali, she finds herself in the various hospitals and laboratories of section two and three. Medicine, much like Abby's concoctions fill the air and Clarke reveals her second tell as her nose scrunches in distaste. Clarke's lack of permanent, debilitating injury is just as much due to mastery of combat as it is dislike of hospitals and medicine. When she'd first arrived on Earth she'd thought such a path might be her alternative should her warrior training fail, but even the smell of medicine made her slightly nauseous. She'd once stepped into a hospital to drop of Jean when she got stung by a bee, but she'd felt panic rising through her upon even stepping through the door.

Clarke would never be a doctor. Abby's face appears in every hospital and Clarke can't handle that memory. She fingers Diana as she remembers the traitor, the dagger was given to Clarke by Luna as both a marking and a message. Diana was the ancient's god of the moon and hunting. Clarke smiles as she reminisces and successfully manages to block out the smell of medicine. Diana shall be the knife that finally puts an end to the pest known as Abby Griffin.

Clarke continues walking with her head held high and her bloody smile proudly shown upon her face.

* * *

Lexa's morning is faced with tiredness. She'd had the dreams again, but every second of lingering carries even more impassiveness.

Often she finds herself wondering if never feeling again would be a better option.

She sighs and gets out of the hammock before gathering her various scattered pieces of clothing and putting them on. She walks around her cabin and pointedly ignores the dark, somewhat dusty corner where she'd thrown all of Costia's belongings. Soon, the precious few pieces of memorabilia will become sacred, but at current they serve only as a grim reminder that Costia is gone.

Sienna promised to move the dusty belongings to the ship they'll be taking North.

Lexa repeats her new mantra, "Commander first, Lexa second"

* * *

Clarke knocks on the door of the rundown apothecary. A sliding panel opens and two blood-shot eyes glare down at her, "Passcode?"

"Do you seriously need one?"

"Yes. Passcode?"

Clarke sighs, "The Fox on the hill is lonelier still when the Vixen is done and the Baker leaves her Mill," The panel closes at this and the door opens.

Clarke enters and looks around the shop at the various flora hanging from the ceiling and growing from cracks in the walls of this forgotten bunker. Sunlight streams in from giant cracks in the wall and tables make a complicated maze.

"I didn't think you'd be coming back, Smiley," The grumpy apothecary isn't known for his love of people.

"I didn't think I could hate you more, Lupa."

Lupa grins and shifts his massive form. The man is built like a bear, with scars and a long, scraggly white mane and short scruffy beard. He wears a gray, tattered shirt and black apron along with the signature black pants and boots of a Floudonkru warrior.

"Shame, I always need more bounties on my head. Mania knows that the 2 million ingots the Maunkru currently hold over my head aren't enough."

Clarke sighs, "I need to restock, I used almost all of my village slayers on my last mission and Diana's concoction is in need of a rehash."

"I have it here, Luna pre ordered it for you."

Clarke nods and glances at a particularly vicious looking plant in the corner, "I see the Gympie Gympie are growing well. It's good to know that the Kapakru spoke true when they mentioned it's ability to grow further north than the southern island they got it from."

Lupa nods, "I'll see to it that Luna knows of their trustworthiness. It's good that the outcasts realise the necessity of their banishment."

Clarke picks up a pink vial, "What's this one?"

"Pure manchineel juice, it burns straight through and is much more deadly than the diluted stuff I give you for Diana. Though the new concoction is a mix of both Gimpie and manchineel so it should bring you enjoyment," Clarke nods and puts the vial down, "There's also a hint of caffeine, so I added a vial of your sleep medicine."

Clarke moves on to inspecting a flower, "Twilight zone, I see," She sniffs and sighs at the wonderful scent, "Nothing's better than a Narcissus flower to brighten up your day."

Lupa scoffs before grabbing the peanut bowl he keeps handy, "Where's your sidekick? I tried a new genus of peanuts with this batch."

Delos pops in from the window at this. He immediately scurries from his perch to the prey, before devouring it wholeheartedly, sending even more shell chunks flying at Clarke.

Clarke chuckles, "You know Delos, always planning a sneak attack!"

Lupa grins, "Stay safe with those Trikru Clarke," His tone turns somber, "You know their attitudes."

Clarke's mood turns as well, "Soon, we shall be the commanding Clan. Peace may be the best for our people, but command is better."

Lupa nods before walking over and pulling Clarke into a hug, "Find them, Clarke."

Clarke nods, "We'll find them Lupa, your apprentice will be revenged."

Lupa pulls away first, "So... what did happen with you and Aela, Jean mentioned something about pleasure slaves?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we go! The introductions are done, the stage is set, and now the adventure begins!!!!  
> Btw, feel free to send me cool things. Because I like cool things. Somebody asked if they could send me cool things, so yeah, do it.
> 
> I wrote some pretty big answers to questions after last week's fiasco, so here they are.  
> Question thingies:
> 
>  
> 
> Why's Lexa such a puddle of feels?  
> Lexa's searching for comfort. The commander inside her shattered and Costia isn't there to help her put it back together again. She'd already broken from all the stress and the treatment she's been getting so right now all she wants is hugs, hugs just like the ones Costia used to give her. Clarke knows how she feels due to her own experiences with Luna, both when she was 12 and after she killed Libra. Whenever Clarke has had a sad moment on Earth, Luna's been there with soft touches and gentle conversation to make it all vanish away. So Clarke's trying to imitate Luna, trying to replace Costia in Lexa's mind.
> 
> WTF IS UP WITH LUNA MAN!?!  
> Luna's a mystery. Sometimes she surprises even me with the way she wants to act. However, one of the most trustworthy clues we've had as to the identity and growth of Luna is the short story that she told Lexa in chapter 9. 
> 
> Are Charlotte and Jean going to be besties?  
> Charlotte's an important person in regards to this story. I have great, great plans for when the 100 get to the ground.
> 
> Do you even know how this story is going to end?  
> I have an ending in sight and all the plot points planned, but your opinions are taken into account and I gouge your reactions so I know what information to release when. For instance, when people showed a love for Luna, I supported it for a couple of chapters before turning that love around and forming a massive amount of doubt.  
> Like I said somewhere, if I die/vanish/lose interest, my sister has strict instructions to release how the story and it's plotlines are going to end.  
> Though, sometimes I have to write chapters on the spot and incorporate something I skimmed over because I occasionally delude myself into thinking that you guys examine this story like you do in English class. Most of the time I use the 20 stock chapters I've prewritten but edit down so that they're a whole lot less cracky and a whole lot more taking multiple swings to decapitate a head.
> 
> Dude! Why the shipping and then the killing?  
> XD I'm quite happy to mess with your heads, Aela was never going to live. I'd originally planned for her name to be Ygritte, (Game of THRONES!) and then have her die right after she'd appeared. But then I played skyrim and Aela caught my eye and well... werewolf. 
> 
> Is Clarke psychotic?  
> Clarke's got a very, very real psychological condition that's commonly brought up by torture, it's basically stockholm syndrome's cousin. 
> 
> What's up with this ring?  
> The ring is very, very important since both Clarke and Aela noticed it. The drug is another one of those concoctions that made me feel like I'm now on a government watchlist.
> 
> Is Clarke Lexa's second?  
> Technically yes, however I've always felt that second is more a position for those who are learning their battlefield positions and as such it would make more sense for Lexa to be Clarke's second. What Clarke is, is Lexa's first mate. To the Floudonkru, the first mate is the one who wields the sword, leads the troops and bows solely to the captain. In other words, Clarke's become a big bad bodyguard for our beloved Commander. 
> 
> Why so huggy?  
> This is a continuation of the support Clarke showed in chapters 8 and 9. She knows the pain that Lexa is feeling and she want to do everything she can to comfort her. She knows that Costia used to shower Lexa with hugs and touches so she's trying to do the same so as to help Lexa ease into the loss. We're not quite in the heads of these characters but I'll try to add more of it in plain speak!
> 
> You guys sure did ask a lot of questions!  
> So I'm going to upkeep my somewhat tradition of offering up some questions of my own:  
> What do you guys think is wrong with Luna?  
> What's she writing?  
> How come Lexa has Costia's stuff?  
> Why does Clarke hate hospitals?  
> Who's Lupa?  
> What did happen with the missing 2 days of Blood Queen?  
> Who's Lupa's apprentice?  
> What on earth are the Trikru's 'Attitudes'?  
> WTF IS EVEN GOING ON!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
> 
> Remember, all questions are good questions. (DELOS IS A FRICKEN CHIPMUNK!) Thank you.  
> ~FoM


	17. The Fox and the Figures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens

"Commander first, Lexa second."

"Oh shut up, maggot," Lexa glares at the burly, and incredibly ugly, crew member.

"Oi! If you're talking, you're not making sure we get to Killiniq as quickly as possible!" A small voice calls from behind a canon.

Clarke sighs from where she sits, perched above them on the quarter deck's railing, "Branwada, I'm surrounded by branwada."

"We love you too Smiley," The small voice calls again.

Clarke returns to her drawing. She has a rough book, covered in bark and bound with a black strip of fabric taken from one of Luna's flags.

Lexa continues leaning over the railing, and watching the shoreline pass by. Occasionally a fish leaps out of the water, or a bird flies by, but those are the least fascinating parts of the scenery.

Her attention is focused on the rolling waves. She's focused on both their strength, and their focus. Every wave rattling against the hull with all it's strength and another following afterwards with it's mind dead set on the hopeless quest.

Clarke looks down at Lexa, before looking back out to the shore and continuing to draw the giant trees.

* * *

"There are two, they speak,"

A shadowed figure turns at the sound. The figure sighs when they see the burly man.

"Two that follow the one who leads."

"Another message?" The figure tilts their head and reveals a blue eye from under their hood. The hood is white, but seems to blend easily with shadows.

"The one is strong, they speak."

"Always so cryptic, I speak," the figure mocks.

"Stronger, but mightier not than the bound sheep. Who is the one given priority over war, they speak."

The figure sighs and pulls out a small narcissus flower, "The one that shall lead their warriors into the world maw,"

"Indeed,"

* * *

Indra leans against a wall below deck on Jus en Klaka. They've been travelling north for two days now, and Indra's been sick the whole time. Luna gave her some plants that have been helping, but being sick is no fun no matter how much medicine is being pumped into your body.

Indra the furious they called her back in her heyday. Now she's been reduced to Lexa's lapdog, or worse, naught but a body guard. Clarke had brought that to mind. Indra knows that those without names aren't leaders, and the Bloody Smile has no name. TonDC needs a strong leader, a furious warrior who can combat the mountain. Lincoln is more likely to give the mountain men a flower crown than actually fight back, and he's the only other person her people would follow.

Clarke's people don't follow her, but she's free! She makes her own decisions, and this appeals to Indra. She doesn't want to be a lapdog. She doesn't want to be so far away from home with only Gustus looking after her people. Anya may be helpful but since Tristan has started gathering followers, she's been losing strength. Not to mention with Echo leaving for Maunkru territory, many are fearing for her mental health.

Perhaps she should suggest a visit from Luna? They seem to be close...

Lincoln will be there soon, it's a much faster trip from Hali to TonDC than it is to Killiniq. Killiniq stands at the far end of the continent, at the end of a long ile. With hundreds of tiny rivers dividing the land, but harsh rocks and a strong current protecting the paths further from shore, the journey is long. It shall take Jus en Klaka almost three weeks to make the journey. Though Azkru somehow manage to cross from one side of their territory to the other in a manor of days.

Indra is startled from her thought wandering as Lexa falls face first into the cot next to hers, "I hate maps."

Indra rolls her eyes, Lexa always has been rather melodramatic.

"Clarke's been staring at a particularly boring one for the past hour!"

"The smile's business is none of yours."

Lexa growls, "But she's said I'm not a child!"  
Indra sighs, looks like the great commander needs another comfort session. Someday someone needs to just whack her over the head with a pauna and see how great her commander spirit is then.

"I love that your fiery spirit has ignited, but please leave me be."

This seems to snap Lexa out of her childish regression. It seems Indra truly has been talking with Clarke too much if she truly is starting to see Lexa as such a child.

"Yes Indra."

They sit in silence for several minutes, before Lexa starts mumbling something. It steadily gets louder until the words make sense to Indra, "Commander first, Lexa second."

"Who's stuffed your mind full of this nonsense?"

Lexa huffs.

"Yourself then. Remember Anya's advice Lexa. The mind of a warrior,"

"Can be polluted only by love, I know Indra."

"Then surely you know that love has ruined you. Your infatuation with Costia was a distraction from our true goals."

Clarke had heard enough.

* * *

Bugi and Lincoln make good time and arrive back at TonDC almost two weeks after their departure. The crew had decided to stay back on the ship, so Bugi grabbed Ursula and the two Floudonkru warriors proudly show off the symbols carved into their arm below their Daun Klaka crest. With a wolf skull and two swords instead of bones, the crest is a beautiful mockery of Luna's symbol. Perhaps, if Clarke was destined for leadership it would become the new mark of the Floudonkru, but such is an honor belonging only to the one they choose.

Bugi shakes such thoughts off his mind, before thinking again of the box tattooed below his crest, showing him as a quartermaster as well as first mate. Ursula has an eight pointed star made of knives, she seems to live and breath her octopus fighting style since the incident. Her brown hair is long, though it's never seemed to bother her. Not even the Trikru have hair longer than Ursula's ridiculous mane, which has just managed to get caught in another piece of rigging.

Horses had been waiting for them at the small port town they'd docked at. A short ride later, and now they're entering the town. Immediately upon stepping through the gate the doors slam shut and people exit their homes. Amongst them Bugi sees many children, and spares them a smile.

A woman steps out of the crowd, her eyes surrounded by Trikru shadow, and speaks, "You're late."

"My apologies, there was an attack."

The woman glares, "We've suffered one as well. Shame that Tristan just so happened to be there when it happened."

Bugi stops smiling at this, and Ursula pulls out a dagger.

"Polis is gone."

* * *

Luna leans back from her chair, and reads aloud the title of her project, "Tales of Ragnarok. A fitting title, though rather depressing in application."

She turns the page, and reveals the first of many clues to follow,

_What is life?_

_A journey,_

_Speaks a wise man,_

_A sentence,_

_Warns a fool,_

_Nothing,_

_Screams the victim,_

* * *

Dante turns from the video taken by one of his operatives, "It seems that more pieces have stepped onto the field. Shame, that savages can only be placed as pawns."

* * *

Lupa turns to his window as he waters the various plants in his shop. As a bright red light signals a coming danger in the sky, he sighs.

* * *

_"Life is strange,_

_Such is known amongst many,_

_Though few can withstand,_

_And many have reached the end,_

_Life is strange,_

_Eternally revolving,_

_Constantly nothing,_

_Fulfilling of something?_

_Life is strange,_

_Albeit unwelcome,_

_Life is strange,_

_Stranger still is the fox upon the hill"_

* * *

I met a nice person once.

I killed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I just introduced a whole bunch of stuff!  
> Feel free to ask questions, though I can't promise answers to all of them.  
> I've started a tumblr for this story, I post cool Clexa things and stuff I'm thinking about putting in this story. rifflesandtumbleweeds.tumblr I still have no idea what the frak I'm doing. 
> 
> Here's some question answer thingies: 
> 
> What's up with the metal hand?  
> It's the glove Clarke had on in the end of S2 when she killed the mountain men while pulling the switch. One of the various friends I've forced to read this story requested it and so there it is!
> 
> How old is Luna?  
> Luna's around 45-50 years old in my mind. Medicine and such seems to be pretty limited with the grounders so 50 is usually as old as grounders get. The reason it's never really touched upon is because age isn't such a categorisation amongst the grounders. For instance, even though Bugi is younger than Lexa by at least 2 years, he's seen as an adult and her as a child. Or at least she is at the beginning. Age is experience in this world so yeah. 
> 
> Why's Clarke so violent with the Abby hate?  
> Clarke hates Abby. In her mind Abby is the reason her whole life fell apart. Yeah sure, Wells lied and Jaha pulled the trigger, but Abby smiled. That smile destroyed everything positive Clarke ever saw in her mother. It's the same sort of doubt that drove Jake to insanity. Abby's smile is an interesting development on her part, and there'll be more on why she smiled later. I'm trying to stay true to how the characters would have originally acted, but I'm using a lot of psychology to try and figure out how they've changed.  
> So Clarke sees Abby as the reason her dad died, and the what ifs of that situation have lead to her hate building up to this point.  
> Abby's perspective is something we'll see a lot of when the 100 reach the ground, I do intend to keep some parts of the show alive in that 2 part narrative. However, just as Clarke has been changed by this experience, Abby has had almost 6 years to change, and change she did.
> 
> What do you think about Bugi?  
> I hate the dude. Worst character in this whole story. He's your standard shonen hero and I hate him for it. How the heck did I end up writing this guy?
> 
> How long does Luna's drug concoction stay in your system?  
> The drug I'm basing Luna's concoction on is amphetamine, which is used in torture and information gathering as a way to break people who are faking amnesia. Amphetamine brings all the past trauma and memories to head so that the victim becomes a chatterbox. I used my creative logic to combine amphetamines memory effects with another drug called sodium amytal which also causes the victim to relive memories, but also causes sleep in larger doses. I'd estimate this combination to take 4-5 days to make it's way out of your system. 
> 
> I'm off on my hunt to find a campfire scented candle,  
> See y'all later!  
> ~FoM


	18. Miscalculations and the Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I can still hear her screams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED  
> I reordered the different POVS and underlined the Voice's lines so that they can be differentiated from the rest of the stuff. Also rearranged some words and sentences. Hopefully this chapter is easier to understand now.

_What is love if not a reason,_

_An explanation for things unknown,_

_But ne'er foreign,_

_A word loaned by poets,_

_Yet sung by Queens,_

_Forever unblemished,_

_Eternally damned,_

_Spoken word nor holy sonnet,_

_Gentle chains ne'er tied,_

_Furious words totally bind,_

_Stranger still is the fox upon the hill,_

_Chased even by the baker in the mill,_

_Violence ne'er designed to kill,_

_Graves engraved yet subtly broken,_

_Kings mourn soft upon widowers bed,_

_Speaking of Queens,_

_The songs that left them dead,_

_Bound to word as shallow water,_

_Riffles ne'er to sea drowned in metal,_

_Many hold knives yet one was slaughtered,_

_What is love if not an excuse?_

* * *

I met a nice person once.

Her hair was blonde, like mine. 

* * *

"They'll be here soon, right?"

"Shush"

"Because I'm bored, and Boar is bored, because he's a boar."

"Shush"

"I like cave duty and all that, but can something interesting happen for once?

"I hate you"

"Shame that Boar ate those mushrooms and landed us with this job."

"Quiet yourself"

"I don't know why I named boar, boar but it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"SHUT YOUR FILTHY," The voice cuts out, as a blade is driven into the man's throat. 

"I'm rather clean, thank you," The second source is quieted as Diana is thrown from Clarke's hand and firmly embeds itself in the neck of the other foolish guard. 

"Shame," Clarke steps over the corpse and continues on her way down into the dark cave. Due to Killiniq being in the center of a mountain range, the only way in or out is through a massive system of caves.

3 weeks travel through rivers, ocean water, and lakes has made the whole crew rather anxious to kill, though the first two are the honor of Clarke. Lexa and Indra are staying near the back of the group as this is unfamiliar ground for them. 

Clarke turns another corner and rolls her eyes at the primitive bindings holding the two skeletons up next to the entrance. 

Her furious march continues, with each step leaving a solid imprint of her boot in the mud. A minute or so later she hears the outraged scream of the commander, and a chuckle escapes her facade. 

"I didn't know that her royal commander could feel fear," A disgruntled warrior speaks behind her. The voice belongs to one of Luna's guard, Clarke remembers his name taking with fondness. 

"Neither did I. But isn't royalty's job to entertain those with a higher education?" Laughter greets her remark. 

* * *

She smiled a lot.

I liked her smile. 

* * *

"Polis is gone,"

The words bring a hush to the clearing. 

Lincoln falls to his knees, "Anya, is this true?"

Anya nods, her gaunt face displaying a sad smile, "They sent missiles."

His face falls, and Bugi watches in bizarre amazement as the stronger male cries. But he can understand it. 

Bugi knows the feeling of love ones lost quite well. 

His fists clench and he banishes the traitorous thoughts from his mind, "Our response?"

Anya's smile seems to broaden at his question, "Death,"

Bugi nods. He turns on his foot and surveys the clearing. Deep within himself he finds his strength, his own power. He searches through his heart and finds his own smile. 

"I am Bugi, first mate of the Bloody Smile, loyal warrior of the Mother, and designated follower of Mania. Your people have been stepped on, and this will not be tolerated! We are the 12 clans!" He looks around and sees renewed strength in hunched shoulders, "This is our land! These are our people! WE ARE WARRIORS! We won't hide in our homes and quiver like children! We will fight! So grab your swords, grab your spears, send a messenger to all of our allies! 

Soon, we will march upon the mountain!"

* * *

Clarke runs her hand over the ears of Jus en Klaka's wolf head. Sullenly, she ponders the things she overheard yesterday in the conversation between Lexa and Indra. While it's good that Lexa is regaining her childishness so quickly, it's rather shocking. 

Luna had predicted her to develop a more withdrawn personality after Costia's death, so this new development represented a miscalculation. 

Miscalculations are bad. 

* * *

Hours later,Clarke's march deeper into the mountains Killiniq continues. They remain oblivious to the events happening further south as Bugi and Anya rally the 11 allied clans to battle. She remains unaware that her current mission will set the tone for the battle that will escalate in these next 12 months. 

Soon they arrive at the end of the cave, and Clarke blinks as the bright sunlight assaults her eyes. A nearby bin of water receives her torch as she continues outwards into the light. 

"Hello," a small child greets them. Her hair is red, and her eyes soft blue. 

Clarke crosses her arms, and stares at her from under her hood. Her warriors remain behind her in the cave, though Lexa protests. 

"They're expecting you."

Clarke nods, and continues on her way, alone. 

* * *

Sometimes I can still hear her screams.    


* * *

Lupa gently runs his gloves hand over the prickly leaf of a Gimpie Gimpie. 

Luna stands in the doorway, her white armor adorning her body and the hood thrown over her face, "Shame that you don't prick yourself upon your own poisons."

He stiffens at her words, "Stating your presence is the standard procedure you know,"

"I made the standard procedure. But now is not the time. Lupa, I have need of the arrangements. Do you know of the one?"

Lupa turns and stares into where he thinks Mother's eyes are, "I believe your daughter has been training her for a while now,"

"Ah, she has. It seems my mind has been growing foggier as of late. Tell me, how is the demon twin?"

"Oh Bugia? I hear Nero is training her well,"

* * *

Blue eyes glint from under a drawn hood. The hood is white, much like the armor that covers the figure. Another, matching person steps into the light, their black hood covering a mane of blonde hair.

Delos snuggles into the bowels of Clarke's bag. She'd recently started padding it with extra fur and Delos approved of the change. Suddenly, he smells the scent of blood. Delos sticks his head out of the bag, and nearly faints with joy at the sight of so many dead humans, fleshy bits ripe for picking. 

Bodies are thrown across the cavern, some half decomposed, others mere skeletons. There's one or two with Floudonkru markings upon their arms, but Clarke pays them no mind. 

"I am here for them, not you Nero,"

"I am they as they are me, speak your buisness Smile."

Clarke scowls, "I wish an answer for Costia's murder, and I request an allegiance," 

"Such requests are better made by those with true rank, such as the Commander you hide behind your warriors' skirts,"

"Lexa is a child. Her mind is erational in the face of loss. I want what is best for all 12 of the clans, so take me to them,"

The figure turns, and Clarke glares at the wrinkled, sunken face that greets her as the woman pulls back her hood, "If only I believed you,"

Clarke grasps her glass sword. True to her new image as Lexa's first, she has to keep the weapon on her at all formal gatherings. Though all of her other weapons adorn her body as well.

"Take me to them,"

The figure looks deep into Clarke's eyes, and nods as her gaze is returned with an intense passion, “Follow.” The figure turns, and leads Clarke through the maze of bodies to a giant tree. 

"Yggdrasil, here is where they dwell," 

Clarke's hood hides the widening of her eyes at the sight of the immense tree, "The stags?"

"That is they,"

Clarke nods, and the two draw closer to the world maw. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM! MOIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  
> Sorry about the late update, but I lost a rugby tournament on Sunday due to some less than fair calls, so I've been broody and angry and that was reflected in the quality of my writing. I'll have 2 more chapters going up this weekend to make up for the wait.  
> Bet you weren't expecting Bugia to be alive! But I never said she was dead did I... :D  
> Lexa's sliding backwards on the road to recovery and badassdom, Azkru are kinda stupid, there's a tree and stags, we kinda know who they are, tempers are rising amongst the Trikru, the mysterious voice keeps on talking, and Nero is dang creepy. So yeah, I answered some questions (you're welcome) and raised a few more. So yay!  
> So ask me questions, because I love answering them.  
> Stranger still is the fox upon the hill,  
> ~FoM


	19. White and Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero is an old lady who squabbles like a thirteen year old

_Strange is it not,_

_The way time turns and wills bend before judgement,_

* * *

Clarke and Nero continue walking. Nero suddenly realises that she's been revealing her identity and thus pulls her hood up. With their hoods drawn up they cast the illusion of twinship, though in opposite colours. 

"How's Mother?" Nero asks, though the topic is strange for assassins. 

"The arrangements have begun, are you aware of your role?"

"Shame, I'd wanted to return to her at least once before the end," They continue walking in silence for several seconds before Nero speaks again, "Bugia is almost ready to take her role among the White,"

Clarke nods, and the two continue walking towards the tree. Hidden between one of the three giant root sections is a stairway just wide enough to fit two people side by side. Clarke sighs as she sees how far up she must climb, before taking the first step of this new journey. 

Step by step the sisters climb the massive staircase as it winds through the roots and branches and twists round and round the great tree. 

"She talks about you all the time," Clarke shares with Nero.

"I was her successor, the only one of the three of us to earn the White,"

Clarke scoffs, "It's harder to earn the Black,"

Nero pauses in her next step but continues on steadily, "I had to learn how to inspire men, how to make people love me with the flick of a wrist, and then kill them with the twitch of a finger,"

"Your chamber says otherwise,"  
Nero shrugs, "It's not my fault that they didn't have what it takes to survive the White,"

"Just as it's not mine that I'm the only one left who's survived the Black,"

"That's simply because you of the black are the rejects of the White."

"Then why is the Black stronger than the White?"

Nero bristles, and then continues on walking but faster this time. Clarke grins at the challenge, and jogs past her. 

The two sisters continue in their competition all the way up the rest of the stairs, their intense concentration resulting in no further words being exchanged. 

"I win!" Nero exclaims as she reaches the landing at the exact same time as Clarke. 

"Your eyes must be deceiving you,"

"You're just jealous of my superiority."

"How could I? I am clearly the better sister!" 

Suddenly, the great doors at the end of the landing open, and Clarke takes in her surroundings. They're very high up in the tree and Clarke can barely see the houses of the village below through the massive amount of leaves and branches. 

The same small child from earlier greets them at the door, "They grow impatient,"

Nero and Clarke bump shoulders before advancing into the grand room. It's been carved from the trunk of Yggdrasil, though giant viens still remain from floor to ceiling in order to water and feed the branches above them. Four chairs decorated in fine varnish and silk are spread in a semicircle at the far side of the room. In those chairs are three men and one woman. The three men all have brown hair, though it reaches down to their shoulders and the chubbiest one has a small goatee. The woman has red hair pulled back from her face into multiple small braids before the small braids make a bigger braid. Clarke is impressed that she had the patience to get her hair done like that. 

Nero walks forward and kneels before the four stags, "Lords and Lady, I present to you Clarke of the Bloody Smile, First mate of both Mother Luna and Commander Lexa, Survivor of the Black, Tamer of Ipmu, Follower of Neither, and Daughter of Mania,"

Clarke's smile twists into it's bloody variant, and she loosens her bag from her shoulder. She has all of her weapons on hand today, from the knives in her boots and strapped to her legs to the Katana strapped across her back and Diana sheathed at her waist. She also has the glass sword on the small of her back and some poisons in vials on her hip. 

"I come to extend an offer from my captains," Clarke starts, and waits for emotion to show upon the faces of these revered figures, "Lexa wishes for the Azkru to join the Coalition,"

The chubby one speaks first, "You come to Yggdrasil with your weapons and army, after killing our Queen and then ask for peace!"

"I'm sure you understand why we won't trust the one who has murdered so many of our people," The red haired woman seems to be the voice of reason amongst the stags, so Clarke turns to her.

"Aela attacked a Floudonkru vessel and murdered Costia of the Trikru. You sent Libra to our lands disguised as a friend and then attempted to kill Mother," Nero flinches at the mention of her masters' attack, "Your actions are being forgiven, just as you should forgive mine. Should you accept this arrangement I shall cease in my punishment of your people, and accept the pain of four deaths."

"We know the Commander is near, why do you hide her?" one of the two identical men speaks now. 

"She is a child, and she's angry with the loss of her lover. Just as I was angry at the loss of mine."

"We've been training your warriors for generations now, what are the conditions of this new agreement?" The other identical man speaks.

"Equal power for all of the clans, representatives shall meet at Polis, nothing else will change. There will be no need for war anymore. We will be able to rebuild the world, together!"

"Shame that you won't be there to see it," the woman pipes up again.   
"Shame indeed, do you accept?"

"I do, but I know not the status of the others," Clarke nods at the woman in thanks. 

"We support your actions as well, it's time to end the needless suffering," One of the two identicals speak, but both nod at the end when Clarke looks at them questioningly. 

Chubby glares at his own lap, before speaking, "Your punishment shall be held in an hour, but I accept," 

Clarke sighs, and turns to Nero. Nero smiles sadly at her sister, before offering her arm. Clarke turns and grabs her bag, before turning again and accepting the arm. 

Together the two sisters leave the room, though Nero quickly leads Clarke aside and brings her to another closed room off a stairway from the landing. 

"She's through here. I expect you'll want to see her before the end," Nero seems forlorn, "I guess soon I'll be the only one left to carry on her legacy,"

"I guess," Clarke had come to terms with her own death 6 months ago, when she took the first step toward the Black. 

Nero opens the door, and Clarke smiles at the sight of the familiar long brown hair and slim, boyish body lying on the bed. She's dressed in a white shirt and black pants, and her hair is braided the same way as the red woman's. 

"Bugia? I brought a visitor,"

Bugia lifts her head from the bed, before turning, and smiling at the black clad warrior. She stands slowly, before turning and sprinting towards her captain. 

"I've missed you so much!"

* * *

15 minutes later the three warriors are sitting at the table, though Bugia has happily sprawled herself against Clarke with her head resting on Clarke's unpadded shoulder. 

"I never really understood this whole sister thing,"

Nero chuckles, "All followers of Black and White have been trained by the Motherline, of which Luna is the fourth incarnation. Clarke and I were both trained by Luna and are among the three warriors she's trained that have taken on the rituals of Black and White and survived,"

"You're Nero's trainee, meaning that if Nero was younger she'd become the new mother. But she's sworn herself to the Stags, and thus can't be part of the Motherline. The Mother always rules over the Floudonkru, and is guarded by a warrior of the Black," 

"The Mother must be trained in the ways of both White and Black, so she goes through a different ritual called the Gray. I've carried you through the first three months of the White, but now Clarke and Luna will instruct you in the ways of the Black,"

Bugia nods along, "Why didn't you take the White Clarke?"

Clarke smiles, "That's something you must find yourself, as the next Mother,"

Suddenly Bugia pales, "Wait! Who's my Black warrior?"

"I was supposed to serve under you until you found another, but I've been training my replacement. Elska's daughter will be coming with me to Ton DC after Lexa returns home,"

"Little Jean? Isn't she more suited towards the White?"

Nero laughs at this, "Revenge is the ultimate corrupter, am I correct in assuming that she's already chosen her path," Clarke nods, "Shame that those so young can be destroyed by my masters' willing,"

"I never knew why you left in the first place, Luna doesn't really talk about you,"

"Luna feels bitter that I chose to replace Echo went she decided to go south. But the White serve the Stags just as the Black serve the Mother,"

Bugia's brow furrows once more, "Wait, Clarke?"

Clarke smiles, "I've been through worse. Soon, you'll understand,"

Bugia frowns, but nods anyways. 

* * *

Half an hour later, Clarke stands proudly in front of the giant crowd with her bloodstained armor on, and her head held high. Her shoulders are pulled back and the bloody smile has returned. 

Chubby waddles in front of the crowd, and bows before he speaks, "We have caught her! The woeful menace and terrible fury. We have captured the Bloody Smile!"

"JUS DRIEN JUS DAUN!!!" The crowd screams, as they furiously fight towards the elevated platform, all of them pushing the others back to be the first to slide a knife across Clarke's skin. 

"May she rest in hell!!!" Chubby declares, before the first dash forward and cut Clarke. 

Across the clearing, Lexa stares at the frantic crowd with hollow eyes. 

"They'll kill her,"

Nero smiles from where she'd appeared next to the Commander,

"She's already dead,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post again! Rugby season ends next week, so I should have a stable schedule again after that.   
> Wow! A lot was revealed this chapter!  
> Bugia's alive!  
> White VS. Black is another Revenge/Redemption type battle!  
> Jean's made her choice!  
> What does this all mean for the story?  
> Keep on reading and find out :D  
> ~FoM


	20. The Hatred and the Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, listen to Zack Hemsey's "The Way" while reading this. I was crying (which isn't all that much of an accomplishment but there ya go).

Clarke's eyes close, the dagger tearing through her skin becoming a distant annoyance as she focusses on each breath. In her chest, her heart beats steadily and Clarke allows the simple lubb-dup to overpower the screams and jeers of the crowd. Her eyes reopen, but she isn't seeing the angry faces or the writhing crowd. 

She's seeing Libra, as he makes the same steps. But Libra never finished the Black. Libra had spent years learning at Luna's foot, months in pain and hours trapped in anguish. He'd been at Luna's side almost as long as Clarke has been alive. But he’d never been ready, not the way Clarke was. 

In Clarke's mind, she can see Diana driving into Libra's flesh over and over. The serrated edge of the knife dragging bits of flesh in and out of the wounds and spreading the poison that coated the blade even when it served at Luna's side. 

She drives her first rage out of her mind, and searches for a happier memory. She doesn't find one. She searches and searches, she tears through story times with Jean. She wanders through knife shopping with Ursula. She relives the hilarious pranks she'd pulled with Bugi and Bugia. She spends hours flipping through the varying trials of raising Delos. 

She turns to nearer times, even the night she'd spent with Aela. But they're hollow. Each happy memory nothing but a perversion. She’s been a devil hiding behind a smile, the smile being the only consistency.

Happy smiles, sad smiles, angry smiles too. There’s even a moment where she smiles through her own anguish, where each and every moment falls to nothing. Her life has become a smile, a blood thirsty example of everything her mother wasn’t. 

For Luna is an angel more white than black. Clarke thinks of Jean, her fangirl tendencies hiding the bits of code she adds into every sentence. She thinks of how happy she could of been, if not for Libra. She thinks of everything that’s gone wrong because of Abby, of everything Jaha allowed to pass unexplained. She thinks of Wells and how he betrayed her… but maybe it wasn’t them who did the betraying. Maybe they’ve been the good guys. 

Maybe Clarke has been hiding behind her smile her whole life. 

Maybe Clarke has been this monster, this _perversion_ , since the beginning.

She's spent years of her life feeling happy, but on reflection the happiest she's ever been was when she'd dragged Diana across Libra's skin. 

Again, she tries another search through her memories, but this time focusing on the violent. She'd been happy when Aela's head was in her hands, and she kneeled before Lexa. 

She was happy when she murdered that whole village with poison. 

She felt joy every time a weapon was in her hand and she got to stain it with blood. 

Abby would be ashamed of the monster her _daughter_ had become. 

Abby wouldn't even be able to look at her. 

But Clarke wouldn't be able to look at Abby either. 

Clarke ponders a question. 

Is it worse to kill thousands of strangers, or the person you should love above all others?

Maybe Abby had a reason for-

Clarke cuts her thoughts off. Abby is no human. Abby is not your _MOTHER_. 

She is nothing.

Clarke clenches her hands into fists behind her back. 

Diana shall be the knife that puts an end to the pest. 

Clarke closes her eyes. 

She focuses on her breath, on her heart beat. She lets the sound flow through her. The silence overcome her body. She lets the knives sliding over her skin fade to background, and breaths. She focuses on each decent of the knife, on each pained expression. She searches her mind for each second of torment. She watches dinner parties on the Arc as guests step back at something particularly gruesome she’s said. 

She opens her eyes once more, and smiles at the crowd. Upon the sight, the person next in line to cut her falters, and steps back. 

"I loved him, you know," Clarke speaks to the crowd, and they fall silent at her words, "I loved the man you sent to kill my mother. I loved one of the monsters you people helped create," 

She lets her head fall for the first time since she'd been tied to this whipping post, "There's only one thing in my life I've ever been ashamed of. There's only one act I've found so vile I've felt bile pile up at the back of my throat," Clarke tilts her head back up, "That's the murder of family. So spit on my face. Cut up my body. Claim me to be the most vile creature to have ever walked this earth. We all know the truth, the vile ones are the people like him," Clarke jolts her head towards Chubby, who's sitting in a throne nearby, a cup of alcohol in hand, "I sit on no throne, I hold no power. I am the Bloody Smile, and you know the good things about smiles?" Clarke lets the crowd stir for a moment, "They never truly fade."

* * *

Delos whines from where he sits next to Bugia, and she sighs before grabbing a nearby body, and prying open the crevice where his neck had been slit open. She rips upwards, and watches in gory satisfaction as the flesh peels back. However the rest of the gooey bits inside the corpses neck come with the flesh so she takes out a knife and cuts up the sides of the gobble to the inner ridge of the jaw.

The thick piece of flesh, fat and blood is then shaken from side to side and Bugia says, "I don't know how you eat this stuff buddy."

She tosses the flesh to the Ipmu, and he chitters in delight as her methodically tears the fleshy bit apart. 

"I wonder when Clarke will be back," Bugia looks around the chamber of dead bodies, "At least Delos will be happy for a while…"

* * *

Nero stands behind Clarke as she makes her speech. She’d seen the familiar signs of dizziness appearing, and the slur and the end of her speech is something few but those who’d been trained to see it would notice. She kneels behind her fellow warrior and rolls her sleeve up to beyond her elbow. 

She pulls a bag out of her hip bag, and stands again to fit it into the container at the top of the stand. Nero had enough sway in the Azkru that her redesign of the whipping post had gone unnoticed and Chubby raises an eyebrow at her as he notices her shuffling. She fits the rather large blood bag into the container, and opens the valve allowing the blood to flow into the sterilized container that runs the top length of the pole. She attaches a tube to the bottom of the container, and wraps the tube around the pole several times. Though she has to push Clarke forward slightly in order to run it behind her. 

Nero grasps the needle at the end of the tube, and slides it into the main artery of Clarke’s left forearm. 

She sighs as colour slowly begins to return to her cheeks, and Clarke’s smile twitches in thanks. 

* * *

Lexa listens to Clarke’s speech, and almost takes a step backwards into Indra’s awaiting form. But she stands steady, and reminds herself of the pain. Indra has stated them foolish, the words Anya had branded into her mind almost since birth. So she lets the words slip free. She allows the pain to overtake her and stares at Clarke’s face as the smile remains even though blood pours down her face from a small cut upon her forehead that refuses to heal. 

“I’ve been thinking about love, Indra”. 

“I’m sure everyone thinks about love, Lexa”.

The two stand in silence, allowing the jeering of the crowd to overwhelm their senses. Lexa speaks again, “I don’t think Anya is right”.

Indra steps up beside Lexa, “The only person capable of telling you the truth, is yourself”.

Lexa looks across the diminishing crowd, and speaks again, “After hours of torment, I think I’d take Clarke’s words above my own at the moment”.

Indra nods, and the silence returns. Lexa allows the seconds to flow, and watches the knife as suddenly, a meaningless face heats it, allowing it to cauterize the wounds. She watches as the villager burns shut each of the cuts that has assaulted Clarke’s form. On Lexa’s opposite side, Nero appears once more. 

“They’re not bad people you know. Nor are they inherently stupid,” Nero nods towards the man, who seems to have inspired a trend, “Many of them are like him, but too scared to act. They want their vengeance, their righteousness. Some want to claim to have wounded a god, to have hurt the maleficent spirit of the Smile. Others want to burn the world, and see this as a proving ground,” Nero steps forward, “But they see the use in Clarke. They can see the armor she wears and they’ve heard the stories. Everyone has demons that follow them, I can see yours plain on your face,” She lifts her hand, and reveals a bowl that’d been hidden in her sleeve. She dips her opposite hand into the bowl, and reveals blood to be coating her fingers. She draws two lines on her cheeks, and Lexa dimly recognizes them as tears. Nero extends her arm besides her, offering some of Clarke’s blood to the two Trigedakru warriors, “She is the Bloody Smile. The only warrior to fully survive the Black, the youngest, strongest and most resilient warrior to grace our order. We call her the survivor, the Killer to some. Others call her beautiful, some even label her Golden. She has no brethren, unlike the rest of us. We say that one warrior of the Black serves the Mother, and that the Mother is the only one to complete both White and Black. But there are no warriors of Black. None have been worthy, not even the Mother. To be part of the Black, is to look upon yourself and see only white. To see the horrors you commit but think them holy, to serve the Mother in methods most vile, and yet do them with a smile."

Lexa remains expressionless, but she dips her fingers into the bowl, and draws two tear lines upon her cheeks, “Why the tears?"

Nero smiles, “They represent the sorrows left behind. The horrors that the Black commits but never feels,"

Indra nods, “She can’t feel the pain, so all others must bear it for her,” 

Nero grins, and Lexa is reminded of the one Clarke is flashing just before them. Nero shares one last bit of knowledge, before pass the bowl to Indra and disappearing, “They all see it. Hali I mean. The mothers hide their children, and the fathers brandish their swords when she enters their homes. They can all see the devil behind the smile, and Clarke doesn’t know why."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you listen to it? Because I was reading it and just as it got to Clarke's part where she's all "Maybe I'm the monster?" the drum starts and WHABAM! TEARS!  
> Anyways, TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS! I WANT THEM!!!!  
> Here's a few highlights from a response essay I wrote in response to the last chapter. 
> 
> Was Luna kidnapped and forced to be the Mother?  
> Luna wasn't taken, she was kicked out of her childhood home at a young age and then found by the White Woman, this is shown in the fairy tale she told Lexa after Costia's death.
> 
> What does being Mother mean?  
> Being Mother means that you are part of both Warrior Paves and as such train people in the ways of Black and White. The Mother is given rule over Hali. Killiniq is ruled by the Stags, the four guardians of Yggdrasil in Norse Mythology, not much is known about these sleazeballs but they rule Killiniq and were the masters Aela spoke of. 
> 
> Who trains the Mother? Where does her allegiance lie?  
> The Mother is trained by Hali, and thus has ties only to the Floudonkru. 
> 
> Can you tell us more about the ring?  
> The ring has yet to be explained, but it is linked to being ruler of Hali, and the Motherline. Clarke has a sword made of the same material, so perhaps Nero has something as well? There are 3 prominent warriors of the Paves that we've seen are Nero, who serves the Stags, Clarke, who serves the Mother, and Luna, who rules over Hali and teaches other warriors in the Paves. 
> 
> Was Clarke always being trained to be part of the Black?  
> Clarke wasn't trained in the Black from day one. She was simply raised as Luna's child but excelled in her training. She starts training to become part of the Black after Libra's death. He was the last warrior of the black. 
> 
> Is the path of vengeance required by Warriors of the Black?  
> The path of vengeance isn't necessarily a necessity of the Black. Nero mentioned that all Warriors of the Black are seen as the rejects of the White, and this is partially due to the fact that upon training all warriors are held as candidates for Mother, or Father though that has yet to happen. The Paves will be explained in more detail later, as Clarke must explain the process she and Libra went through to become part of the Black. 
> 
> Clarke's being mind controlled? Mind control causing Bipolar reactions?  
> I may have discussed this on Ao3 but Luna's potions don't mind control people, they just wipe out bad memories by exposing them to you over and over to the point where they don't bother you any more.  
> Clarke's bipolar reactions are caused by the many masks she wears, both due to her inability to trust people and because she is required to do so. Lexa's presence will be a break, but Clarke sees her as little more than a royal pest. Remember, the 100 are tougher than the rest of the Sky people, but the grounders still see them as slightly less. The same is the relationship between Clarke and Lexa, but this time Lexa is the child and Clarke is the warrior. 
> 
> Why did Clarke pledge allegiance to Lexa?  
> Clarke and Luna want to be at the top, this means allowing peace to settle, before proving themselves the better commanding party. Clarke didn't allow Lexa to come with her into the meeting, and by invoking the Coalition she has put herself right next to the top. Luna currently holds Lexa in her pocket as Lexa is working too hard to prove herself and is thus missing the events happening right under her nose. Think of it like this, Lexa is currently the Tommen stuck between his Margery (Clarke) and his Cersei (Anya/Indra/The Trikru). If Clarke wins, then she's closer to the throne and if she sits upon the throne, the power ultimately belongs to her people.
> 
> Why plot peace but spread war?  
> Clarke is indeed the one behind the coalition, her interactions with the Azkru have mostly been along the lines of 'Jus Drien Jus Daun' or spreading her legend. Clarke started messing with the Azkru after being initiated into the Black, so perhaps it was part of her training. Clarke ultimately wants peace and redemption, but remember that she's ultimately a very vengeful person as well. Her attack of the Azkru is largely fueled by the betrayal of Libra, and the subsequent selection of Bugia does nothing to help matters. 
> 
> What's up with the mythology of this story?  
> The mythology isn't that important, it's just a link to the wider world and an action that I thought befitting of the human race. After all of the hardships and the trouble this new world has put them through, why not turn to religions and mightier beings to explain it. Living men were often made legendary within their own lifetime in ages past, so why not do that here? The myths are pretty cool though, and things like Ragnarok become a lot clearer with the source material. 
> 
> Thanks for the support and love!!!  
> ~FoM


	21. The Storm God and the Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnarök is an actual thing, look it up

_Stranger still is the fox upon the hill,_

_Words twist and change,_

_Becoming demons sans face,_

_Likened to the Black,_

_The demons’ silent mask,_

_Silence becoming White,_

_Quiet even through night,_

_Mother is I,_

_Wiser than both,_

_Stronger though sloth,_

_Moon is I,_

_Tranquil before storms,_

_Steady through water,_

_Sea is become me,_

_Silent as the grave,_

_More loyal than a knave,_

_Riffle is the opposition,_

_Shallow water covering black rock,_

_Water is deep,_

_Such as Sea is me,_

_The Stranger approaches,_

_Soon to become the Known,_

_Stranger still is the fox upon the hill_

Luna lays down the last page of poems, and smiles. Her ring glints on her finger, and she ponders who shall be the next to wear it. Her smile fades as she glimpses the Kapakru tattoo that lies just above her Floudonkru one. She closes her eyes and brings a smile to her face as she shoves all thoughts of her former home aside. She is Floudonkru now, just as all other mothers before her have been. 

“Soon the real story will come,” Luna turns to her guard, “Are you familiar with the tale of Ragnarök?"

The guard startles at her speech, but shakes their head none the less.

“Shame, for all that has happened once will happen again,” She turns back to her book. The title glints in the candle light, “I wonder how Clarke is doing, I hope she brings the successor back safely. It truly would be a shame for that story to repeat itself."

* * *

Clarke smiles, and lets her thoughts consume her once more. It’s easier this way, to forget all the outside pain and just let the scars tell the story later. She knows that only one scream has been ripped from her, and the thought fills her scattered brain with pride. She’s better than him, better than the fool Libra. It’s why she survived, and he didn’t. 

A grimace comes across her face then too. She’d let the light in again. She should know better. 

The Black is all consuming, a philosophy that requires clear mind and a sharp knife. Distractions get you killed in this new world after all. 

Clarke can feel one final knife, this one sharper and unheated. She surprises herself with the fact that she’s even paying attention to the happenings outside her own body. 

She opens her eyes, and sees a face she’d never forget. The crooked nose, and squinted green eyes are marked in thought, for the final punisher pulls Clarke’s head forward, and whispers into her ear, “Beware the coming twilight, Storm God. Beware the coming of Ragnarök."

Clarke’s eyes widen, how did they know of the Fate? How did they know of the legend? As they walk away, Clarke catches a glimpse of the blade hanging from their belt. Her breath hitches as she spots the jagged red glass of the sword. Her hands attempt to reach for the blue sword that matches, “Who are you?” Clarke’s voice is hoarse from the repressed screams. 

The stranger pauses before speaking. Her back straightens as her shoulders slide back and her chest puffs out proudly, “I am the Liar, sister,” she speaks before walking away. Each of her steps echoing through the satisfied crowd. 

Clarke’s head rings with the new information, could she be another member of the Black? Perhaps a follower of the White? 

Chubby stands once the Liar has rejoined the crowd. He signals to Nero, who has taken up her position behind Clarke. Nero slits the ropes binding Clarke to the pole, and Clarke attempts to stand. Her armor was removed before the second knife cut her, and so the black shorts and T-shirt she wore underneath are soaked in her own blood. The shirt had the sleeves cut off, and numerous holes in it. The shorts had remained mostly untouched as people focused on her upper body with the knife. Numerous cuts litter her form, and light bruising can be seen in certain places. 

Burns also littered her body, and Clarke feels thankful for the fact that they mainly avoided her joints thus removing all threat of scars inhibiting her movement. Her face has been victim to a few cuts, most of them jagged and burned over. Clarke’s knees are a bit wobbly from the blood loss, and her head feels like it’s spinning in circles. But still, she reaches for the only sword left on her person.

She wraps her right hand around the hilt of her blue glass sword, and smiles at the familiar feeling of smooth leather under her calloused palm. The sword slides smoothly out of it’s sheath, and she slowly takes two steps forward. Her smile widens to a horrifying grin, and the burns and cuts do nothing to deter from her presence. She steps up next to Chubby, and his face scrunches at the stench she emits. She tosses her sword from hand to hand, and appreciates the amount of movement she still has. Luna was right about the Black being the best form of training for near-death situations. She switches her grip to a reverse on the blue sword, before she swings it into Chubby at her side. The surprised look on his face will be a memory she’ll always cherish. 

The sword had swung perfectly into Chubby’s heart, and as she removed the sword, his body fell backwards. Clarke raised the sword, and held it over her head in a sign of mock victory. The thud of Chubby’s body hitting the ground rang through the surprised crowd, and Clarke spoke to them once more, “I name this sword Angurvadal, for it brings a message,” at that moment in time a beam of sunlight broke through the branches, and illuminated the blue blade of the sword, “War is upon us, it could be with you, or it could be with another. But no matter the foe lives shall be lost. I offer you a deal. You can stand with me and my people as part of the coalition, or die upon my blade. The others stand at my back, so choose your place,” Clarke lowered her sword, and kneeled next to Chubby’s body. 

With short deliberate movements, she cleaned her sword of blood. 

Nero laid her hand on Clarke’s back, “I thought you’d name it after the hammer. The Liar did call you the Storm God,"

“I am no Thor,” Clarke’s voice is hallow, but it rings with solemn truth,

“I am the Bloody Smile."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Sorry for the short chapter this week, and the late posting of it. I just started exam season. There should be 8 or so other postings this month so look forward to those. However, the reason I'm posting so much this June is because I'm going on hiatus for most of July and August, I'm going on a wee hike through the wilderness for 42 days. So fun!  
> Also! I got a question that I've been waiting for someone to ask for a very long time now! I even named the tumblr page I rarely use after it :D  
> WTF IS A RIFFLE!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!  
> Riffle (R-if-fle) is a geographic term for when the water in a stream is rolling over a rock and is just barely covering it. It's a thing, and also not a gun.  
> Anyways, tell me things and ask me others, because I love talking with you guys!  
> ~FoM


	22. The End and a Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can someone tell me why people are worried about the zombie apocalypse?

Who am I if not a member of the void? Who am I if not a masked warrior among the unmasked? Who am I if I hold not a name? Who is Clarke Griffin? Who is the Bloody Smile? Who is the monster that Abby Griffin has created?

Who am I?

Such are the thoughts running through Clarke’s mind as she stares at the ceiling above her hammock. The gentle waves of the sea rock her side to side, and Clarke can feel the sleep sneaking up on her. She wonders briefly what vision Luna’s medicine will show her tonight, but then realizes that she doesn’t really care. 

She returns to thoughts of her own identity, her own inferiority in the face of others. She wonders why it is that she holds no name, and if she’d ever even had one. She then ponders why she’s suddenly becoming so reflective, and then sums it up to a side effect of the recent near death experience. Her eyes slide over to the blue, jagged blade of Angurvadal and she remembers the riot that broke out upon Chubby’s death. 

The Azkru mourned the loss of their leader, but they knew the value of strength. Now Clarke and her crew were sailing North to Baffin, or where the new Stag was being trained. The Clans know well the value of having an heir prepared at all times. The value is known so well that even now the new Stag trainee is slumbering belowdeck. Indra had chosen to stay behind and deal with the negotiations, Lexa wanted to travel further with her new bodyguard. It also seemed that the Commander wanted to meet and influence the new Stag. Clarke thought she just wanted to be useful for more than her mouth. 

Clarke sighs, and lets the sleep overtake her. Stubborn nuisances can wait until daytime to be dealt with.

* * *

For once in a long time, Clarke dreams. She dreams of a thrashing wolf, and a thundering storm cloud. She approaches a cage made of chains and sees a river of blood flowing in the distance. Above her, the clouds rumble and send dark, condescending rain falling down upon her hunched shoulders. Armor weighs her down, but she notices its chain linked material and the metal, almost historic plates that adorn her body. She shifts her weight and feels the shield and sword hanging across her back shift with her. A helmet is clenched in one hand and Clarke wonders where she is. Luna is marching besides her. Her hair is grey, and she wears armor of gold and black much like Clarke’s current apparel. Upon her shoulder is a raven, and two wolves prowl between their horses, growling at the rain. 

Clarke looks behind them, and her eyes glean at the sight of hundreds of soldiers. All of them hammering the pommel of their swords upon their shields, creating a hallowing echo to rival the thunder. Nero, Bugi, Echo, and Lupa march along with them. The dirt beneath her feet is muddy, slippery and smells of sickness. Lightning strikes down from the heavens, and the clouds above begin circling, and taking on a red hue. 

Clarke sees a hill up ahead, and each step upward coats her legs in more slippery mud. Small patches of grass are the only reminder that this used to be a holy place. Icy mountains and a tundra flash before Clarke’s eyes, before being replaced with yet more mud and hill. Each step is an effort, each effort another step. Luna grunts beside her, though Clarke doesn’t hear the sound due to the echoing thuds of pommel meeting shield. She looks at the sigil upon their shields, and the wolf skull reminds her of her mission. Fenrir has drawn his last breath, though Clarke can’t help the sneaking suspicion that these events are more than they seem to be. Soon the hill is nearly behind them, and as they complete the last few steps towards their goal, Clarke becomes aware of a rumbling, of a harsh vibration that seems to set into her bones and rattles her to the core. 

They climb over the hill, and see a thrashing wolf, chained and bound. But the chains are cracking and bodies litter the field. Clarke looks to her warriors, and sees Bugi clutching his stump of a hand. She nods at him, before raising her sword and screaming a battle challenge to the army of gods. They respond in kind, rattling their weapons in a wild whirlwind of sound that overpowers the growls of Fenrir, and seems to quiet the storming heavens. She turns on her feet, and nods to Luna. Luna unsheathes her sword, and with a rallying cry of her own, charges towards the wolf. 

Clarke follows, mere steps behind her and as they near the fearsome beast, it opens it’s mouth. With a huge maw, the roof of its mouth seem to fade into the sky above, with it’s lower jaw touching the ground below them. The wolf breaks free of it’s chains with one last thrash, and charges towards the startled gods. Luna stills for a mere second, and that second is long enough for Fenrir to grab her in it’s maw, and swallow her whole. 

* * *

Clarke startles to awareness, finding herself in a cold sweat with tears lining her cheeks. She picks herself out of her hammock, and goes above deck. Though she takes a second to make herself presentable first. She stares at the stars glittering above her, and she traces stories in their shapes. She sees hunters, and warriors of old. She watches gods spear serpents of undetermined threat, and watches a single, orbiting dot slowly cross the sky.

The Arc moves slowly in it’s orbit, with each movement accompanied by a flickering of some tracker light that was probably once used for observation from Earth-bound scientists. Clarke can here the subtle creaking of wooden planks from behind her, but she keeps her head tilted upwards towards the sky. None of Luna’s warriors would make sound, and the footsteps are too quiet to be the new Stag trainee, so it must be Lexa walking up behind her. As steps stop, Clarke speaks, “Luna always says that stories are told by more than words or writing, but I’ve never had the perspective to actually search for them. It’s strange how much the outline of a guardian can represent, when surrounded by darkness."

Lexa continues her steps, and joins her in leaning against the railing. She’d approached from the side, and such was why Clarke hadn’t seen her previously. But now, as Lexa stood directly next to her, Clarke could see tear lines marked down her cheeks as well. She almost stiffened in panic, but then realized that she’d wiped her own tears and sweat off before coming above deck. Lexa leans into her side, and Clarke does stiffen at the contact, “Tell me about them,” Clarke tilts her head slightly to her right in question, and Lexa expands, “Tell me about your stories, your gods.  We Trikru have very few, and most of them are created by mothers to keep us from trouble."

Clarke nods, “We Floudonkru believe in many faiths and gods. It comes with meeting so many people, with being of so many things,” Clarke lets the anxiety and fear that had settled over her fade, as she thinks of a story to tell Lexa, “I guess our main belief is in Ragnarök, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it?” at Lexa’s silence Clarke continues, “It’s the end of the world, and a subsequent rebirth. The Stags tell the Azkru that the first sign of the coming Twilight is a cold, long series of winters,” a cold wind nips at their backs from the ocean, accenting Clarke’s words, “They also warn that these winters will cause brothers to turn on brothers, and families to be torn asunder. Following that, the three birds will cry, warning the giants, the gods and those poor souls that rest as unworthy. The sun and moon are swallowed by the chasing wolves and the stars in the sky fade to black. The ground will shake, tearing at its seams, and mountains that have stood for centuries will topple, broken, to the ground. But then, the true carnage starts with the freeing of Loki and Fenrir, or the opening of the World Maw. Fenrir charges forward, his open maw stretching from sky to ground. 

The rallying cries of his brother cause the ancient Sea Snake to rumble from his position wrapped around the world. He thrashes too and fro, sending floods to attack the mainland,” Lexa nods, and Clarke looks over to see her eyes bright, and shining as she looks up at the stars, looking for the stories Clarke knows to live there, “Giants of frost sail into battle on ships made of corpses, while the sky splits in two and the giants of flame join their cousins to war. All of these forces meet with Loki and his army of the damned. Together they march to the endless field and Yggdrasil shakes as the final warning. Heimdallr has already called forth all the gods, and together with those who were deemed worthy they march to the field of battle. The Freyja falls before the fire and the worst of monster attacks the one-handed god of war. The monster and the god fall in unison, and Thor defeats the Sea Snake nearby. Thor soon dies from poison."

Lexa looks to Clarke, and her brow scrunches adorably before she asks, “The Liar called you Thor didn’t she?"

“Indeed she did, but I am more poisonous snake than thunderous warmonger,” Lexa nods at the answer and then gestures with her hand for Clarke to continue. Clarke scoffs at the royal gesture before adhering to her royal request, “Then, Fenrir kills Odin, or the ruler of our gods,” Lexa nods and Clarke intertwines their hands, pulling Lexa closer to her side. She lifts their arms and points her finger at a constellation, “That’s Orion, but we call him Odin these days. Luna says that when Odin gets eaten in each Ragnarök he or she becomes another star in Orion,” 

Lexa speaks again, “Do you know many?"

"The only Odin I know is up there is someone Luna calls the White Woman, or the Mother before Luna."

Lexa nods, and interrupts, “The White Woman is the one who took in the little girl, right?” 

Clarke looks to Lexa, and smiles at her knowledge, “Yes, and she died leading her warriors into battle with the Maunkru 30 years ago. She fell to the first strike of Lupa’s battle axe. Lupa, of course, was the Fenrir of that Twilight. He then surrendered to Luna’s care and he is now a prisoner of our people. Though, the Maunkru see him as a traitor and hunt his head even now,” Lexa nods, and Clarke wonders why she’s being so open with this information. She then decides, that it’s because Lexa is Floudonkru now. She might be a tree in heart, but her mind yearns for the power, the solidity that comes with the path of the Floudonkru. Clarke can see the yearning in Lexa’s eyes. She can see the want to protect, to lead and to nurture. She continues with her story, “Odin is avenged, as his true, strongest son kills Fenrir by ripping apart the world maw,” Clarke smiles, as she remembers Jean’s panic when she'd told the girl the same story she’s currently telling Lexa, "The next event in our order is the killing of Heimdallr and Loki, who die upon the battlefield as the giants and the gods meet.

They have no constellations among our people, for Loki was a god who betrayed gods, and Heimdallr was born of the ocean waves. We see him as an immortal wave, crashing upon our shores and reaching upwards attempting to reach his brethren in the skies,” When Lexa’s eyes gleam at the sad fate of the Watcher, Clarke continues, “Their deaths upset the balance, and the world explodes into an inferno of creation as the lands erupt flame and the skies bleed. But then, the world rises once more from the sea, with beautiful forests and vast collections of wildlife. The children of the sun and moon take the place of their parents, and at the endless field the avenging son of Odin, two sons of thunder and the fated one sit and wait for others to join them. Soon they are greeted by Hodor, and the five sit in eternity and wait. Later, only two humans remain on the world of men. Together, they recreate their world, recreate the gods, and the cycle repeats itself again,” Clarke looks to Lexa, and she nods along to her words. 

“How did the world survive the last one then? Luna and Lupa still remain in our world and according to your events they should have died, poisoned by the great snake and murdered in battle respectively,” Clarke nearly chuckles at Luna’s words. 

“Because the events do not all happen in one same Ragnarök. The original destruction, the blasting of the world, was the last true, complete Twilight. Since then we’ve only had flickers. We’ve seen flashes of true greatness and wonder. It took us 100 years to crawl out from under the ground, and 200 more to rebuild our trade and societies,” Clarke looks down at Lexa once more, and watches the way her eyes trace different constellations than the ones Clarke herself could see. On board the Arc, tracing the patterns and learning were the only pass times available. Clarke spent hours on the computer searching through stories and quotes, years reading about ancient heroes and great triumphs. She watches now as the moon passes midnight, and she wonders how a dream that felt so long had managed to fit itself into a time so short. 

“We have another story. One that we took from your people back when we first made contact. Have you heard the tale of Vishnu?” again, Clarke takes Lexa’s silence as cue to continue, “The Vishnu looks upon a Prince, and tells him to perform his duties. The Prince looks upon Vishnu, and sees him as nothing but a peasant. Vishnu sees the Prince’s thoughts and transforms into his multi-armed form. He says to the Prince, ‘I am become death, Destroyer of Worlds,’” Clarke smiles as Lexa hangs onto every word of the shorter story. 

Lexa pauses and grins childishly as she realizes that there is no more to the story as we tell it, “Why end it there?"

“Because it’s all we really needed to learn from it. For Ragnarök we needed to be shown an epic battle, a horrible suffering that’s worth every detail because in the end it makes the world a better place. For this, we need only know that those who are stronger become the embodiment of death, and that death is the only thing that can truly destroy the worlds with which we battle,” Clarke takes a deep breath, and ponders what Lexa must be learning from this. She waits and lets the waves sooth the calm left by silence. 

“I miss her,” Lexa lets the words hang in the air, “I miss her hair, her smell, her humor, her eyes, her nose, her voice, her everything. I miss her so much I sometimes wish I’d never met her."

Clarke can sense the path this conversation is taking, and allows it to flow. Sometimes words are better than bandages. 

“Sometimes I accidentally wear one of her shirts, or see someone who looks like her. Each memory worse and worse."

“I loved the man that I stabbed to death. It still hurts to see them. To see the people who drove him to do the things that he did,” Clarke takes out Diana, and turns around so she’s facing the rail. She drives Diana into the wood, not truly caring for the damage that it’s causing Luna’s master ship, “I carry this knife, the knife that drained his blood, as a reminder. Diana demands that I be strong, furious and uncaring. She demands that I hunt without mercy for my prey, and that all pests be exterminated,” Clarke takes a deep breath, before jumping over the metaphorical cliff, “I’ve sworn that Diana shall be the knife that puts an end to the pest known as Abby Griffin. I’ve decided that I shall be the one who kills the woman who birthed me, should her face ever be shown."

Lexa turns to face the sea with her, and wraps her own hand around Clarke’s, “I swear, that I shall be the one who puts an end to the ones who shield her. So that I might aide you in vengeance as you aided me."

Clarke nods, and together they stand until sunrise, and the sighting of land. 

* * *

Bugi glares at the Maunkru spy trapped beneath his foot, “They’ve grow jealous of the coalition,” Ursula speaks from behind him.

“They grow jealous of an offer we’d soon make to them. The Floudonkru show them no preference, it is the Trikru who have sinned.”

Ursula draws one of her knives and glances down at the trapped man, “They are attacking the Trikru, you dolt."

Bugi sighs before changing the subject, “I wonder how Echo is doing. It can’t be good for a Trikru to be among enemies."

The Maunkru below them has stilled in his minute struggling, and both warriors glance downward at this development. The spy presses the advantage of such a glance, and struggles in one renewed effort. A warrior wielding a strong battle-ax and fur covered armor emerges from the bushes. His sudden appearance allows the spy to overpower Bugi and pin him to the ground, while the warrior knocks out Ursula with one massive swing of his axe. The blunt end slams into her stomach, and the light woman is sent flying into a nearby tree. Her head hits the wood with an alarming crack, and Bugi panics at the noise. 

“You should know the power of a warrior, Bugi,” a feminine voice preludes the emergence of Echo from the surrounding woods, “I am no more Trikru than I am Azkru. _I am of the order, much like you are of the sea_ ,” Bugi scowls at the use of English. 

His eyes are drawn then, to the red sword upon her hip that seems to shine almost brighter than the sun. Echo nods to the giant warrior standing over him, and all Bugi can think as the axe lowers towards his hand is that the warrior’s skin seems to be turning blue. His world is then consumed by pain as his left hand separates from his body. 

All he sees before he passes out is a pink smoke that over takes the clearing. 

* * *

_"I am of the order,_

_As you are of the sea,_

_I am of the flame,_

_As you are of the river,_

_I am one of many,_

_As you are many of one,_

_Set aside mortal bond,_

_Cast away immoral pleasure,_

_Join the Mother in Nothing,_

_Bind the Father to Forever,_

_Such is the Oath,_

_The words of Fire and Death,_

_I am of the order,_

_Serving the world bound to flame,_

_I am of the Destined,_

_The ones who shall live again"_

Atop mountains in worlds away, figures in red hoods grasp their red, shining weapons. They turn into the fire and each steps forward to mark their hand in turn. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There ya have it! I'm pretty sure that this is the longest chapter I've published for this story yet, so you're welcome!  
> But sorry it took so long. This chapter was the one I had to botch up a bit to get the wolves involved and plus Ragnarok deserves only the lengthy explanation I gave it.  
> So Lexa's bouncing all over the place on the emotional scale as of late, what's up with that? Also, tell me if I missed any MAJOR Ragnarok events (I'm too lazy to put the little dots over the o at the moment, deal with it) because I will then justify the exclusion of that event for you :D  
> I did mention that this pre-100 storyline is based around a lot of clinging to religion, and part of that clinging is the idea of how different religions intersect. For instance, there's the fact that pretty much everything we know of Norse Mythology (except the little bits of written stuff) comes from the point of view of Catholics being raided by vikings and also, quite mad. Even then, a lot of it's tilted as the people writing about Norse Mythology tended to try and fit it into this weird Catholic/Greek/Roman box that it didn't really have any right fitting into.  
> Also, who can guess who's who now! Because I revealed a heck load of stuff in this chapter  
> Love it or hate it, 7 more till 2 month hiatus!  
> ~FoM


	23. Nothing and a New Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bugi is forgotten

Useless

Useless

Useless

Over and over, a single definition

Over and over, a single label

Over and over, a single regret

Bugi lies on the ground defeated. He was useless. He was worse than dead, worse than alive. He was nothing, a none entity of such epic proportions that he could almost hear his sister mockinBut his sister is gone, taken by duty. He’d failed. He’d failed and let Clarke take her. He’d failed and he’d let her walk into the void, he’d let her kill herself.

Nothing

A better description, for he didn’t even deserve to be useless. He’d felt strongly about everything, felt injustice at every wronging. But when the ultimate punishment was dropped upon his shoulders, in the moment where he’d sworn to stand strong and fight through the darkness, he’d failed. All his life, he’d look up at the giant muscular warriors of Jus en Klaka, the Warriors of Blood and Bone, and he’d mocked them. Because he was going to become so big and they were going to be so small. 

Absolute Nothing

Bugi can feel his life fleeing. He has short moments, and he should be grasping his hand trying to cling to life. Useless, a non-entity. But a non-entity would be better than him, because a non-entity wouldn’t have been there to make mistakes in the first place. Bugi struggles to find a definition, a word to describe his utter failure. But he can’t, for in his mind he is the worst and most vile creature to ever exist. He can’t fight now, he never followed the pursuit of knowledge. He’d never had a mind for tactics, he can’t even do farm work. He has no reason to live, no claim to life. He just lies alone in the clearing. Ursula and Echo having been taken by the Maunon but a short while ago. He’d failed Clarke. He’d failed the Floudonkru. 

Useless,

Failure,

Nothing

* * *

Clarke and Lexa step onto the dock with near coordinated unison. Lexa is one step in front of Clarke at all times, and each step from the commander sent the mice dwelling in nearby crates scattering. The commander is more use to silent steps upon dirt or stone, not the creaking planks of a wooden dock. 

The two leaders ignored the incessant chatter of the crew that piled out of the smaller rowboat behind them. Lexa is uncertain towards the exact terminology, but she fears all attempts at getting at the knowledge will be met with either refusal or horse manure. Lexa continues on fearlessly, each step being a battle against the snowy, windy weather and her general fear of unstable structures. 

Lexa squints, and at the end of the long, unnecessarily windy dock stands three figures. Two of them are short, diminutive humanoids while the third blur forecasts a towering shield of  muscle and meanness. Lexa thinks that she might be a bit too tired for cohesive thought at the moment. She’d spent all night on deck with Clarke clutching Diana after all. But she shakes her head of useless ponders and focuses on her mission. 

The landing party approaches the three to find two sniveling children and one rather annoyed adult. The adult speaks first as he forces his hands down on the shoulders of the two boys, “I am Clyde, speak your business."

Clarke speaks in return, “I am Clarke, we come for a replacement stag.”

“State the reason."

“I killed the fat one."

Clyde nods at that before grasping harshly at one of the children’ shoulders, “Show them to the four,” he releases the kid and they step forward. His hand then grasps the shoulder of the other child, “Escort the newbie, 2,6,4,2.” 

Lexa doesn’t know what to make of the numbers, but the kid does as they step forward into the crowd and lead the newest stag recruit along. 

Clarke follows the first child, and Lexa finds herself solely capable of following her.  

* * *

When Bugi wakes up days later, he reaches for the nearest knife and attempts to end himself. He struggles and struggles but finds himself incapable of even that. He’s been strapped down, but he can’t even move. Years of hard work, of training and sweat were wasted. His arms feel limp, forgotten. His hand missing. He lies still, forgotten. He can see cobwebs it the corner of the room, but before he can wallow in further selfish thought he slips back into dreamland. 

* * *

Clarke and Lexa find themselves lead to a large, wooden room. It’s perfectly circular and a large fire roars in the center. Across from them sit four oversized thrones draped in animal pelts and topped with giant sets of deer antlers. People fill each throne, but the large chairs seem to swallow them whole and create a childlike shadow and figure. The roaring flames of the fire leap and dance across their view and shield the four from view. Clarke steps forward, and her voice battles against the crackles of the flame for dominance. 

“So, who’s the new idiot?"

Lexa twitches. 

An androgynous voice answers, “Me, but maybe us. Perhaps it’s a they. Who knows? But we have a task, a wondrous thing,” Lexa twitches slightly more violently, “We, but not they, ask for Moon Daughter to remove a threat. Not a threat to us, but a threat to you. You as Smile, you as Black. You as Golden, you as Night. They ask Commander for truth. Perhaps false, but perhaps light. We are as false, but you ask for true. We answer with none, yet you hear all."

Clarke nods, but asks another thing of the four, “Tell me where, and the Commander shall speak truths of light falseness."

“Upon a dream’s hill. Over a stormed mountain. The Black finds her threat at the Jaws of the World. Treat it as you will."

Clarke nods and quickly exits the room. As Lexa turns to follow her, the four speak once more, “Who are you, Commander?"

Lexa stops, before speaking, “Commander Lexa of the Trigedakru,  Second to Anya, Daughter of Hills, and Leader of the Coalition."

“Come back when you speak the truth. The child will lead you."

Lexa leaves with a puzzled frown marring her face. 

* * *

Clarke draws her sword, and uses the hilt to bash open the ice cave. When she’d left the four, the same child from earlier had met her and lead her out into the wilderness. The harsh icy tundra ran on for miles before meeting the sea with the only respite being the 5 cabins of Valhalla. Clarke muses that if they had less ragamuffins and more warriors the name would be more fitting. Three of the five cabins are used for the housing, training and feeding of new stags. Clarke had only seen the fourth, but it’s circular shape and thrones had certainly left an impression. The fifth cabin is the stuff of legends, for no one truly knows what dwells inside. It’s a towering building, with walls that have stood since before the first ending. Many have tried to enter it and only those near death have succeeded. Some come back to pass on what they saw within, but each story varies drastically from the last. The only consistency is that warriors long dead gather here to tell stories of great victory and greater defeat.

Luna teaches that when the final twilight comes, the doors of Valhalla will open and a golden tree will emerge from the ground in front of it. From the doors of Valhalla warriors long dead will rally and aid in the fight against the giants. Clarke hopes that one day she’ll be there in Valhalla telling stories of great valor and victory. Alas, she is far from that time. 

She focuses on her task, and continues walking through the cavern of ice. The child had led her to the bottom of a giant ice cliff. Clarke had then been left to her own devices. The four had told her to seek the mountain from her dream. If they suspected that it was atop this cliff, then who was Clarke to judge them. Thus she marches on. She lets herself fall into her senses, focusing on the slippery floor beneath her. Each step becomes almost a battle, a contest between the grips of her boots and the slick ice of the floor. She walks through a tunnel of ice and for a moment she misses the company of Delos. He’d been left behind with Bugia and though his reaction to being surrounded by his mortal enemy might have been amusing, it was slightly cruel.

Clarke continues upwards, and when she can finally see the dark storm clouds overhead once more, it’s a feeling a relief that greets her first. She remembers the storm, the lightning crackling above. She continues onwards towards the center of the storm. The clouds overhead were spinning, spiraling in a pattern that she found rather bizarre. A faded memory of a classroom threatens remembrance, but is quickly removed. Suddenly, a howl fills the air. It’s lonely, nearly mournful to trained ears. It speaks of sacrifice, of a final goodbye but the first hello. Clarke hears none of this in the howl. She hears a warning, she hears a challenge. With renewed vigor she climbs through the now waist deep snow of the tundra. She shivers in her four-layered clothing and her teeth start to chatter together. Her muscles start tensing but then she forces them to relax. She allows herself to sink slightly into the void of the Black. She lets the emotions and pressures go to focus on the only matter of true importance. She focuses on Luna, on following each and every one of her orders perfectly. A small seed of doubt, implanted by Aela so long ago threatens to surface in her thoughts. She can feel the warm, calloused hands of the warrior queen caressing her face. She can feel Aela’s warm breath against her stomach. She lets the doubt fuel her. She knows Aela would have wanted this. She would’ve wanted Clarke to serve her people.

They were both figureheads after all. People who seem to have power, to be in charge. They didn’t have real voices, so they made their own. Clarke got to decide her path. Aela got to decide her death. Clarke can remember the whispered promises. She remembers the feeling of her sword ripping through the Wolf Queen’s head. She lets the doubt leave her. Together they could have saved so many of their people. But hopefully with Lexa she can save them all.

Clarke lets the doubt leave her. She lets the random thoughts vanish and focuses on the whirling clouds, shrieking wind and dusted snow. She focuses on climbing that familiar hill.

She focuses on the deep growls she can hear ahead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!  
> I think it's time for me to admit that I suck at keeping a schedule. But 6 more chapters before I leave on July 4th!  
> HAPPY CANADA DAY!  
> So the next chapter will be up later today.  
> The reason this one took so long was because I had to fit in a fan request, you'll know it when you see it later.
> 
> Edit: Hey guys! I rewrote chapter 17 so if you were confused about that you can go back and reread it. I leave soon so I'll make this quick.   
> I'm sorry that I didn't get to write all of the chapters I wanted to write and release before today, but shit happened and I got distracted. Promise this story will increase in quality when I get back, cya in 56 days!


	24. Betrayal in the Twilight

 Lexa has decided that she really hates small children. Specifically small children who smile like they can see beneath your skin and read all of your secrets. They’ve been following her for all of the past day. They smile at her constantly and when she dares to observe Them they don't blink and continue judging her every action. There are hundreds of Them all over the island and they follow her wherever she goes. They pop up in windows and their beady, shining eyes appear in every shadow.

Lexa hates Them. None the less, she continues on her journey to find the truths the replacement seeks. She knows who she is. It's been impounded into her brain every day of her life. She is Lexa, leader of the Trigedakru and destined uniter of the clans. She sits with her back leaning against the trunk of a barren tree in the middle of the courtyard. It lies directly in front of the biggest of the five halls. Valhalla is huge and despite only knowing the name Lexa knows the reverence placed upon the building by the Northern Clans is beyond compare. The Maunkru, Floudonkru and Azkru have always been strange to the other 10 clans. But the strangeness was respected for the three are also among the strongest of the clans. 

 "You seem troubled," a rich voice floats to Lexa. She looks up to find the source as a warrior of the Azkru. She wears the standard grey uniform of her people but with a steel shoulder guard. Her hair is red, yet muddled by brown and her shoulders drawn back with regal manners, "Nothing good ever comes from a troubled mind."

 "Nothing good ever comes from strangers either,” Lexa notes the slight chuckle and shrug as the warrior relaxes. 

 "Ah, such is true. My name is Nia. I believe you killed the leader of the resistance. Aela always was a little too fond of being in control."

 Lexa reels back in shock. Quickly she regains her commanding aura but they'd both seen the slip, "You are the true Queen of this land, correct?" Nia nodded, "So then you know how to deal with all of this bullshit."

 Nia smiles indulgently, "Normally I just kill them all. But, since rebellion and uprising isn’t an issue you can currently deal with, telling them your name is a start."

 "My attempts at truthfulness were disrespected."

 "So then you don't even know your own name."

 "I am Lexa! Commander of the Trigeda, second to Anya, Daughter of the Hills and Leader of the Coalition. To label me as less is treason."

 Nia chuckles, "The Floudonkru are right in calling you a child. You can't see what's right in front of you. I am Nia. That is my name, no more no less. Here we follow one rule, blood must have blood. The rest of our stories, that's just the commentary," Nia leaves with a sweep of her blue cape and a wink from dazzling silver eyes. 

Lexa scurries away with the new knowledge already being sorted neatly into her brain. 

 She arrives at the circular room with passion and loudly exclaims, "I am Lexa!"

 A slow meander of clapping greets her announcement, "Here we thought you'd never get it. However, now we tell you the true question we prepared. They ask for a lie. One that you believe with full being to be true."

Lexa’s passions leaves her, “What?"

One of the four shifts and the sound of moving cloths fills in the silence, “Leave us girl and return when you know how to deal with gods,” The four have turned cold, steely in their disregard and anger. Lexa is confused, why had her question angered them? What on earth had she done?  

Nia storms into the room then and the candles dim and flicker with the swirl of her cape, “It would do you all well to remember who is truly in charge of this land. One of you leaves now and shall accompany Lexa back to Killinq. I shall go and fetch the Smile from the useless quest you’ve sent her on,” just as quickly as she entered the Queen left and Lexa found herself speechless. She decided then and there that the aura she wished to command was that of the Queen. Though perhaps the coming and going so quickly was unnecessary. 

 Lexa straightens her shoulders in an imitation of Nia’s aura. She nods to the four and ignores the stares of Them. She turns and quickly departs the room. 

* * *

Her footsteps fall quickly as she dashes after the Queen. Lexa tries her hardest to maintain a regal jog while Nia’s long strides keep her out of reach. She watches as the regal white cape of the Queen flaps wildly after she turns the corner into the courtyard. She chases after her, her run becoming less regal and more desperate. More and more the cape disappears around the corner and Lexa’s steps grow more frantic. She doesn’t know why but time seems to slow as piece by piece the cape disappears. Desperation rises in her for reasons she can’t explain. But as the white blends in with the constantly falling snow and the last of the cape vanishes, Lexa turns the corner. 

 Each puff of her breath sends clouds of white smoke spiraling out of her mouth. Each inhale of air brings harsh shards of ice down her throat. Lexa’s a mess with her hair disheveled and her cloak falling open. Normal business continues in the courtyard until one by one, people start noticing the strange behavior of the tree in front of Valhalla. In place of the queen fall thousands of yellow leaves from the supposedly barren branches of the golden tree. The yellow leaves fall to blend in with the white snow, disintegrating into dust that is then blown into the wind. More buds show themselves on the tree, their nature golden just like the leaves that twirl through the air around the tree. 

 Lexa watches as the leaves slowly fall into place on the ground. All of those leaves that didn’t fall into the pattern disintegrated, their dust eventually settling to form the outline of the golden crow on the ground. Wings spread around the tree, the golden bird forms in a matter of seconds. The last leaf falls into place as a thousand crows from around the rooftops of Valhalla release a simultaneous cry and take flight to the North. 

 Lexa’s heart pounds frantically in her chest as she remembers the words Clarke had spoken but a short while ago, the words that spoke of Ragnarök’s beginning. 

 Lexa turns and watches with all the rest as a distant missile is launched and smoke turns the sky black. 

Clarke crouches, Angurvadal drawn in her right hand. Diana is gripped firmly in a backhanded grip in her left hand. A dark cave rests before her. The furious growls telling of the foe that dwells within. Clarke watches as the furious wolf prowls out from the entrance. The monster is huge, being two meters tall on all fours and nearly 5 meters long from nose to tail. Clarke grips her weapons tighter, her frozen fingers locking into the position. 

 

 

* * *

The beast growls at her, each breath sending hot blasts of wind across the clearing to blow back Clarke’s hair. He snaps at her and lunges forward slightly. Clarke doesn’t back down from the challenge. Her feet carrying her forward as she dashes forward. Her feet light in their steps so as not to disturb the snow too much. The wolf snaps at her, and she dodges to the left of it’s maw, dragging Angurvadal down its side as she goes. The blow barely scratches the hard pelt of the beast and it shifts sideways slamming its flank into Clarke and sending her rolling across the snow. She rolls out of the blow and ends up kneeling in front of the beast. She pushes off her foot, charging back into the fray. 

 She targets the head this time, aiming with Diana for the beasts eye, hoping to create any form of advantage. She bursts into an adrenaline filled sprint and jumps into the air as the beast attempts to cut off her escape route along it’s side. She lands atop its head, but the beast immediately takes action to shake her off. Clarke grabs hold of the beasts ear. He continues shaking her and Clarke’s grip around Angurvadal’s thicker grip starts slipping. She swings herself off the ear and scrapes the wolfs eye as she passes. 

 The wolf yips and retreats back, blood leaking from the injured eye as he closes it. He growls at her, saliva dripping from his maw. He opens his mouth, revealing row upon row of teeth. He raises his hackles, readying to leap at her. Clarke sheaths Diana and Angurvadal. Her hand rests on the grip of her third weapon, a Katana that used to belong to Luna, and the White Woman before her. The black bladed sword was a true representation of her standing as a Warrior of the Black. The wolf leaps at her, his claws ripping into her shoulder. But Clarke barely dodged. Her smile appears then as she reaches with her gauntlet clad hand and coats it with some of the blood from her arm. She rubs the blood across her face, allowing some to drip into her mouth and colour the smile like it’s name.

 “I am Clarke of the Bloody Smile! You shall know my name as the one who slew you,” Clarke drew the katana, passing it into her gauntlet clad right hand. Her eyes narrowed in determination, as she fell into the opening stance of Luna’s style. Her smile is feral, and yet her entire being seems to be entrenched in calm. The wolf leapt at her again. His head shaking from side to side to make up for his limited eye sight. Clarke waited until the last second as he pounced, claws first to leap upwards into the attack. Her katana swinging upward into the sensitive ‘fleshy bits’ of the wolfs maw. The wolf stilled as the longer blade pierced through the entirety of its mouth and into the sensitive flesh above. The wolf fell sideways, drawing its last breath. 

Clarke knelt at the wolfs side. She removed her glove, and laid it on the scruff of the wolfs neck. Her fingers noted in mangy fur as she said, “Your fight is over,” she rested her forehead on top of her hand, “May your stories ring through the halls of Valhalla." 

Suddenly all of her senses return, with Clarke smelling the rancid scent of infection on the wolfs pelt. She recoiled from the wolfs pelt, glancing down it’s side and as she noticed the pus covered side of the animal. The beast had been dying from infected spear wounds, arrows and other such battle scars. The animal was feral, wild with pain and anger. 

 “I’d been wondering who would put the beast out of its misery,” Clarke turned, and there she stood. The name came to her as naturally as her own. Clarke would always know the woman who stood before her. The woman Luna idolized with every bit of her being. She would know her just by frost white hair and kindly blue eyes. But the elaborate white gown and seeming immunity to cold gave her no doubts. 

 Clarke bowed before the reverent figure, her nose pressed into the snow and her Angurvadal laid across her open palms in front of her. 

 “So, you are the Bloody Smile my crows have told me of. Strange is it not, how fast words fly."

 Clarke lifted herself onto one knee. Keeping her sword in front of her as she bowed her head, “Stranger still is the fox upon the hill."

 The White Woman chuckled, “You have much to learn, Child of Black. Have you ever wondered at the fates of those who chose the wrong path?"

 Clarke shook her head.

 “Luna kills most of them. Those driven by revenge are sometimes gifted to the Maunkru. But those obsessed with forgiveness? They belong to the Azkru. And you? You who seeks the path of neither and want to be respected as themselves alone; you belong to me. Luna has told you lies of despicable truth,” Clarke recoiled as if struck, snarling at the new enemy, “She told you that it was a necessary evil to slaughter all those born different, when they could sustain a pleasant life outside the clans. She told you of the evil of the ice nation. She told you to give up your humanity when humanity is the thing that makes you strongest. She told you that the ends sustain the means, but what ends have you been working for? Who are the people you support? Who is Luna truly?"

Clarke looked the woman in the eye. Searching for answers to the questions she'd been asking this whole time. Surely Luna was better than Abby, but who said the White Woman wasn't better still? Clarke clutched at the vial of medicine in her coat pocket. "She gave me... medicine for the nightmares that have plagued me since childhood. The nightmares continue to torment me but I've found myself growing numb, immune to those fears that debilitated me before. What does it actually do?"

She frowned, a hand reached out to caress the bottom of Clarkes chin, "I do not know. But I suspect it deals with your lack of sympathy for those you've killed. You show no remorse and I know no guilt stains your conscience. A bit of me prides my Daughter on the monster she's made, but you are no monster. Thus I make an offer. I have heard the crows call and as Ragnarök approaches I am in need of allies. 

 Come Clarke Griffin, let us bathe in the blood of those stupid enough to disobey my will. Let us accept the pain of the past and move forwards,” The White Woman smiled as if she held a secret, “So tell me Clarke of the kru that is dead and traitorous, will you join me? Will you serve at my side as we strike down armies and teach all that your pain is your own and no one else's?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> Here's the long awaited new chapter of Riffles, hope everyone enjoys it!  
> Nia got added into this after we finally found out the name of the Ice Queen. But yeah, big twist in the trail this chapter. What side will Clarke choose? Which side is which?   
> Btw, sorry about the hiatus that got WAYYYYY longer than expected. Probably won't happen again.  
> Sincerely,  
> FoM


	25. The Dawn of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What on earth did I just write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves

Bugi reawakens to an empty cavern. He strains his ears for the clangs and shouts that accompany life in Hali. Everything is silent. The sound of his breathing the only comfort in an alien world. His breath quickens as he panics slightly when he looks for his right hand and finds nothing. As his breaths become calm again he can hear the faint dripping of water falling from a crevice in the ceiling.

He sniffs the air and smells nothing but mold and stale sweat. The sweat permeates the air, sinking into his bones and seemingly marking him however. The mold grows rampantly on the walls and the two small pieces of bread next to him. He decides to leave the bread, it's gross anyways.

His mouth is dry, pasty as if he'd been drowned in the ocean and left out to dry for weeks. He takes a sip of the water tin he'd been left as well, but it doesn't do much of anything for his thirst. He decides to chug it all now and take his chances later. The cold water is heaven as caresses his tortured throat and pools in his mouth. He almost forgets how to swallow in his joy at the wondrous feeling but a sense of urgency suddenly overcomes him.

He touches the rough cloth beneath him. He touches the top of his head, searching for hair that is no longer there. A tattoo marks his skull now. It shows his status as one of the failures and his exile from his people. His armor is gone. Taken to teach some other boy to follow the creeds of the Mother. His right hand is gone. He can feel and see the bandages wrapped around the stump that could once hold a sword. He can try to move it, over and over again trying to twitch fingers that are no longer there. He tries to push himself up and notices that he is no longer strapped down to the bed. There isn't even a bed anymore. He's been laid out on a rough burlap mat in a cave. 

He opens his eyes and sees the peasants garments he's been placed in. He knows what to do, what his only option is now. He is no longer a member of the Floudonkru. His markings have been cut off and a harsh scab throbs under the fingers of his remaining hand. He looks to the mouth of the cave, debating if he is ready for the journey that lies ahead. No clan will take him now. No village will shelter him. If he'd retired it would be a different situation. Or if he'd been one of the Trigedakru. They were less... strict in their training methods. They didn't have the universal army of the Floudonkru. He wondered if the other clans knew exactly who they were dealing with when handling Luna and Clarke. They were more than trained assassins and powerful leaders. They stood for an ideology, they stood as figureheads that could be replaced easily. Luna was primarily known as the Mother and it was no secret that she'd killed the previous one to come into her power. Clarke was only known as the Bloody Smile. Replacing her was a simple matter of finding a warrior more determined. He wonders as to the fate of Echo. He hoped she received a thousand cuts for her betrayal.

He couldn't ascend to Valhalla. He has no sword to put in his remaining hand, and he would have no ability to wield it should he find one. Maybe he could stay in the cave, starve himself. He can already feel dizziness claiming his consciousness, the harsh call of cold and death calling to him. 

He decides to leave the cave. He doesn't know how he finds the courage, but he does. He emerges to desert, harsh sand in all directions. Most likely the delegates from the Maunkru dropped him off before heading home with news of Polis' destruction. He chooses to walk into the sun, for maybe it will blind him and he will no longer be able to see the effect betrayal has had upon him. He marches onward, sun burning his eyes until he wraps his head in the burlap cloth he woke up on. Sand gets in his shoes and he slides down hills he didn't know were there. 

He sets off through the dead zone with the other mutants and amputees. Some nights he thinks that he hears them talking around him, that maybe he has begun traveling with a group. But he shuts himself inside and hides away from the world. All he can hear is the wind around his head. All he can taste is paste and thirst. All he can smell is sweat and salt. All he can feel is the ache, the feeling to scratch with the arm that he can't. All he can touch is sand and burlap. 

All he can think of is Clarke, standing over him with a training sword and telling him to get up. All he can believe in is the future ahead. All he has is the thought of getting to the Kapakru. 

He needs to keep walking, to keep running when he can't walk. He crawls and cries pretend tears because he can't even bring himself to make real ones. He isn't Bugi for a time. He looses himself in the blackness and the sun and the sand. He looses himself in the steps, in the rhythm of walking. He gets blisters that bleed giant stains unto the back of his boots. He pulls his scabs and blood soaks through the bandage around his wrist. He doesn't know how he does it. 

It starts slowly. A thought scratching at the back of his mind. Whispers in his ears and gusts of wind tugging at his hair. 

It gets louder and louder with the whispers growing to voices and the scratching to an attack. 

It gets softer then, becoming a caress and a hum. It fills his spirit and inspires him. It tells him that the sun sets, the sand ends and that the scab heals. 

He knows it by name, it is him. It is Bugi come back again to tell him that he has been lost but now he can be found! 

He reaches out into the darkness, and removes the burlap cloth from his eyes. 

He sees the lake. He sees the waves and sunlight and he cries. He cries real tears for all that he has lost and all that he must reclaim from the burlap cloth that was his prison. He sees Clarke smiling approvingly as he strikes down warriors in training. He sees trees, and Delos climbing through their branches. He sees Hali, with all her people standing against the darkness and winning! 

He sees himself, sword held in his left hand and a shield strapped onto the forearm of his right. He sees himself striking down a mighty foe and dancing upon the corpses. He shakes the visions of glory out of his head. Bugi was the one with dreams. He was the one with realities. He wouldn't forget Bugi though. He wouldn't forget who he had once been. He looks out over the giant lake, and decides that Bugi must not be forgotten, but transformed. He tries to think of a new name, of a new thing to call himself. To label the thing that has become new!

He remembers the stories Clarke spoke of so fondly. Of the death and destruction of the old and the rebirth of the new. New him decides to abandon this. For while he loves Clarke, he doesn't want to destroy the old. He wants to accept it, and transform it into a beautiful New. He wants to be the beautiful butterfly, emerging from its cocoon after living as a caterpillar. He wants to be a sword, forged from the steel of another. He wants to be fire, sparking from the branches of trees and creating new beauty from the old. He wants to be the sun, who leaves and then comes back again just the same, but completely different. 

He decides to call himself Dawn, for he shall be the new beginning. 

* * *

“She has returned,” Lupa spoke from his position at Luna’s left side. The space to her right was empty due to Clarke being away. The rest of the circle was filled with high ranking warriors from the Floudonkru. All of the captains were scattered throughout the room, their firsts and seconds being on patrol to ensure that nobody could interrupt this meeting.

"The White Woman? I thought Luna killed her?" A miscellaneous captain spoke the obvious question.

"As did we. But apparently we didn't kill her well enough. The real question is what she wants. All we've heard of so far is her being sighted with the Commander. Lexa chased after her when she fled the council,"  
Luna spoke.

Lupa took over, "We have reason to believe that the Commander is attempting to ally with her. We cannot allow this to happen."

Luna spoke quietly, "As of now we are separating from the coalition and declaring war against the Ice Nation. We will prove our strength! We will prove our superiority! We will prove that I am the rightful Mother!" 

A messenger burst into the room, "News from the White Woman," Luna nodded for them to continue, "She's been spotted with Clarke. They shook hands on something. Clarke has returned with Delos and the replacement."

Luna growled, "That fucking bitch! I raised her! I fucking fed her. I taught her everything she knows! She betrayed me!" She howled, pulling a dagger and stabbing it into the table, " Get me her fucking head," the captains were starting at her in shock so Luna screeched at them. Changing from the sweet Mother to a Harpy in seconds, "I said to go kill Clarke Griffin! Why haven't you started killing Clarke Griffin?! Fleet 2 you leave in 10 minutes. I don't care about your fucking feelings just go!" 

Luna quickly turned from her casual self to a rampaging berserker. She knocked maps off her table and screamed at the walls. The captains had fled, certain to fulfill her orders. Lupa had pat her on the back before leaving too. 

A knock at the door interrupted her, "Mom?"

Luna screeched at the sound of someone's voice. She turned around, sending a dagger flying into the already partially cracked door. Her eyes are bloodshot and her mouth frothy.   
The warrior opens the door slowly, "Mom?"

"You have no right! Absolutely no right to call me that. I saw you with her. With the White Woman." Luna has bowed her head, leaning over the table with her back slouched. 

"I'm not Clarke, Mom."

Luna looked up. Her eyes shining as they fell upon the familiar visage of Nero, her first Child.

"I've brought your successor, but then I must leave. The Queen has summoned my presence."

Luna walked around the table. She placed her hands on either side of Nero's head and touched their foreheads together, "I have missed you. I spend every moment wondering how the four treat you."

Nero chuckled, "Here I thought you'd be focused on your new toys. What has made you sad Mom?" Nero gently dabbed away Luna's tears with a handkerchief.

"Clarke," Luna didn't say anymore. Nor did she truly need to. Nero swept her up into her arms and carried her Mom to her bed. It was weird to care for her own Mother like this. But Nero was no stranger to weirdness. With her happy demeanour many often forgot that Nero was actually older than Luna. The many wrinkles she had underneath the hood would probably mark her as twice Luna's age. She'd been surprised to actually be a contender in the small contest she and Clarke had held a while back. Nero gently rubbed the liquid into the skin behind Luna's ear.

Nero brushed Luna's hair out of her face, "Hush. I must depart for my meeting with the queen."

Luna grunted in response. 

"Goodbye Mom. Your fight is over." 

Nero turned away and left. Her white robes billowing out behind her as she stormed off to confront Queen Nia. As she stormed off, she failed to notice the pair of blue eyes that watched her from under a black hood identical to her own. 

She failed to hear Clarke as she warned her of what lies ahead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! Nero did something, Luna's declared war and BUGI IS BACK! AND ALSO NOT FALLING HIMSELF BUGI ANYMORE!
> 
> I'm actually starting to like Bugi now. It's mildly terrifying but still amazing. 
> 
> Luna was always going to be at least a little crazy. Why did she admit to trying to kill her own boss? Why did Lupa seem okay with it?
> 
> Oh and don't worry,  
> Next chapter is full of Delos! 
> 
> Fleshy bits,  
> FoM


	26. The Woman of White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood baths guys, Bloodbaths and blood baths. This whole story is about Bloodbaths. Or is it blood baths?

Clarke was hung before the White Woman. Her limbs wrapped in chains and secured to the wall.

"Have you forgotten?" The man who asked was irrelevant, an empty face in the halls of millions.

Clarke growled, "No."

Again the man asked, stepping forward imposingly, "Have you forgotten?"

Clarke denied, again and again. She stated that she had not forgotten but she never expanded onto what.

The White Woman stepped forward, her eyes calculating and cold, "You have forgotten. Haven't you?" She ran a hand along Clarke's jaw. She only removed it when Clarke snapped at her, "Or perhaps you were never taught."

Clarke growled, frothing like an enraged animal.

The White Woman stepped back, and gestured at the faceless man. He left the room and shut the door firmly behind him, "I am Queen Nia of the Azkru, White Woman of the Hill and Mother of White and Black. Do you know of the arrangements?"

Clarke shook her head viciously, denying both the names and the knowledge, "I know of the replacement. That when Bugia takes the throne I will be free from my oaths."

Nia nodded, "Do you know how the replacement takes the throne? Do you know the events of the last Twilight?"

"You died, Lupa killed you. Luna beat back the Maunkru and ascended to the throne as your replacement."

"Wrong. You have forgotten."

"I have not. You died. Luna replaced you."

Nia pulled out a nearby chair and splayed herself across it lazily, "I am obviously quite alive and as such Luna could not have replaced me. For you see, it was not the Maunkru who marched on Hali in the last twilight."

Clarke raised an eyebrow, puzzled. Her struggling stopped as she considered the honesty of her words, "Lies."

"Truth. Why would Lupa be allowed into Hali if he'd attacked the city. If he'd killed me. The one core belief of the White is the power of transferal. To obtain someones power you must kill them."

"Then kill me and get this over with."

Nia chuckled again, "You're worth far more to me alive than dead. Why do you think even those who know the tenants of the White follow Luna?"

"Because she's the Mother."

"Because you back her up. The one fault of my reign, the one reason people believed Luna when she spoke of my death, was that I could never teach someone the ways of the Black," Nia looked to the ground, letting out a huff, "I was the Mother and yet whenever people came to me and attempted to learn the ways of Black, of the void, I couldn't help them. It's why they called me the White Woman. The Mother before me, the Vixen never had the time to pass on her Blackness before she fell to my sword. Yet somehow, Luna taught you."

"I taught myself."

"How?"

"Pain."

"I see," Nia lifted her head, "I never was very good with pain."

"Neither was I,"

Nia nodded, "The arrangements. The passing from Mother to Mother can only be accomplished through one method. The only way for a Mother to be crowned is by killing the one before her."

"And you are still alive."

Nia nodded again.

"I will teach you."

"I do not need to be taught."

"You said the black was your weakness, your one failing. I will show you how to enter the void."

"Will you join me, Clarke of the Bloody Smiles?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You are not my Mother. My last two have betrayed me, wrapped me up in webs of lies and strangled me in my sleep. I will not join you, I will teach you as you teach me,"

Clarke slipped her gauntlet clad hand free of the restraints, "I will be your sister. I will be your friend, your companion in the battlefield alone. I will not follow you but join you. I am Clarke of the Bloody Smiles, daughter of those dead and traitorous, and Warrior of the Black."

"I am Queen Nia of the Ice, White Woman of the Hill, and Mother of White and Black. I shall join you, Clarke of the Bloody Smiles. May our world bathe in the blood of our enemies," Nia grasped Clarke's proffered hand.

"May our enemies tremble in fear of our name."

Nia grinned, "Luna raised you almost half as well as I could've."

Clarke grinned back as Nia called the man back in and he let Clarke down from the wall.

Clarke lead the way out of the cell, "Luna didn't raise me."

Nia chuckled and took the lead from Clarke, "It's my castle remember, I'll show you where the chamber is," She paused briefly in thought, "Who did raise you then, if you don't mind me asking."

"Ghosts and animals. Speaking off, don't tell me we left Delos with Lexa."

"Wouldn't dream of it. I believe Aela had great joy rescuing your little monster."

"Aela the warrior queen? Isn't she dead?"

"We have hundreds of Aelas. It's become something of a problem."

"Oh right, the naming thing."

"I'm quite relieved people never found out my name."

"This is the problem with living in a society of warriors, everyone wants to capture the spirits of the greats," the two nameless leaders chuckled together.

Nia spoke next, "Delos is waiting for you in the chamber. He seemed quite at home amongst the fresh corpses left there from our last recruitment drive."

Clarke groaned, "I made the mistake of feeding him the flesh I stripped off a skull for the walls of Hali. He's been obsessed with human flesh every since. If he ever starts begging to you just cut the flesh off the underside of a chin, he'll entertain himself for hours."

Nia knocked at a nearby door before swinging it open, "This is our stop."

A fuzzy blur erupted out of the nearby pile of corpses. Chattering happily Delos ran up the inside of Clarke's leg before she caught him in her right hand and began tickling him with her left. He purred in pleasure as the warrior cooed at him and showered him with affection, "I missed you too! Yes I did! Yes I did!"

"You spoil him."

"Rotten, I know. But he's my only friend so I don't care. There's a little girl back in Hali, Jean. She loves feeding him steak and it's done nothing for his flesh problem. He's a feisty ally to have though and his kind are one of the biggest reasons Hali has never been invaded."

"Perhaps we should recruit them for our army then."

Clarke laughed, "No need for an army. You've seen how quickly I converted to your side. The truth is the only weapon we need against Luna. But first, your training," Clarke let Delos run up her arm and wrap around her neck.

"I know the risks."

"You don't," Clarke turned to the fountain that sat in the middle of the circular chamber. She noted that it was empty, dry of the blood that should be there, "We can't start yet. Get your men to come here and fill this fountain with the blood of those unworthy, it is the most important part of the Black."

Nia signaled to the two guards who stood guard at the entrance to the room. They began dragging the bodies of the fallen to the fountain and slitting their throats, wrists and thighs to bleed them into the water. Clarke turned to the Queen.

"The Black is different from the White in every single way. The White demands that you erase pain, removing it and placing yourself above emotion. However, the Black demands that pain motivates you, that it becomes your one true goal, your essence and pride. To do this we use the blood of those who try to achieve the White but fail to do so, thus immersing themselves in pain completely and dieing from it. The first stage of the Black is simple," Clarke removed her gauntlet and lifted her sleeve to reveal numerous thin designs tattooed into her skin, "You must tattoo yourself using a needle of Wolfs bone and dye mixed with Snake Venom," Clarke reached into a pouch on her belt, and pulled out a vial of venom from the Texas coral snake, "I have this due to my own need to remind myself of the control. You will need to do this for several days in a design of your own choosing.

"Mine is of fur, I like to think of it as my animal spirit come to the surface. I know some have chosen leaves, or waves to signify their homes. Others have names, villages or stars. Still, the choice is yours," Nero accepted the vial and resumed watching the guards as they drained the corpses of blood, "This will be the most painful experience of your life. If you use too much venom it will kill you, and as the dye sinks into your skin it will never leave. The pain will always be lurking in your skull. It will never fade. Sometimes you'll want to kill yourself, to ascend to Valhalla where it can't follow you. Your hand can be weakened as well, only so long as you let it though. It is why Luna and I wear gauntlets.

"The second step is what involves the blood. I will tell you of it when your time comes. Go make your markings, learn the pain. I can wait," Clarke finished her speech as she went off to grab a corpse and assisted the guards in bleeding it. Nia fled the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys remember at the beginning of this story when people were begging me to give Clarke a wolf companion? No? Well here they come!
> 
> Anyways, who's super excited for episode 3 of this season? Because I am so excited! I am so happy that the show went the direction of having people want to absorb Clarke's power, because that's what I'd always had planned with the passing of Motherhood. Though all I could think of when this was mentioned was Red from Orange Is The New Black talking about "The chicken that is smarter than all other chickens!" and wanting to absorb its power.
> 
> My one-person editing/writing team thing hasn't really been working out, so if anyone wants to Beta this story, give me a holler. For the very low price of your soul and happiness you'll get to deal with my slow writing process of watching Viking documentaries!
> 
> Insincerely,
> 
> Follower of Mania


	27. A Dance of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People Die

When Clarke was seven, she snuck into one of her Mother's surgeries. She watched through a window with two medical students as Abby tried to remove shrapnel from an injured engineer. Clarke was fascinated by the beeps and whoops of the surgical instruments and the finality of the monitors. The students around her had notepads and scribbled down notes frantically as Abby worked her miracles. Clarke watched with a sliding grin on her face as the vibrant monitor beeped red and Abby unplugged his life support.

Clarke watched as Abby turned from the table and left the man behind her to die without a second thought. Abby didn't flinch or grimace as she took another life. Jackson, ever her faithful shadow, lifted the recyclable sheet over the mans head. He gave Abby a pat on the shoulder before moving on with his life.

Clarke was horrified. Her mom had killed a person! She'd done what she told Clarke never to do! Clarke's eyes watered as the students around her made a grunt or two of sadness before jotting down more scribbles and dashing off on unimportant errands. Clarke turned and marched off to find her Dad. Surely he would be able to explain this.

Clarke barely made it two steps out the door before Abby's hand pounced on her shoulder. The hand fell like a Judge's gavel and Clarke was spun around into a warm embrace and cool tears. Abby sniffled into her daughter's hair as she ran her fingers through the hair on the back of Clarke's head, "Hush darling. While tears are meant to be shed you must not grimace or frown in public. You know what your Father says," Abby pulled away to look the equally teary Clarke in the eye, "There are eyes everywhere. Watching us, studying us from the shadows as they wait for the moment to strike at our weaknesses," Clarke was drawn in for another hug as her sobbing tears soaked Abby's shoulder, "Do not let them see you cry. Do not let them see you bleed or fall."

10 years later as Clarke dips her hand in a pool of human blood, she states the third sentence of the mantra, "Do not let them see you as weak," her lips twisted into their menacing grin as she let blood dribble through cupped fingers. She pondered quietly who's child she really was, the paranoid daughter of Jake Griffin or the haunted child of Abby.

She turned from the pool and watched as Queen Nia approached her. The Queen had heard her last statement and asked a question with the quirk of her lips.

Clarke snarled back at her in response. She would help this woman, this supposed ruler of the Floudonkru. However, Clarke was growing tired of the idiocracies of politics. She missed the simple days of training in her tree with Delos. She missed the easy assassinations with their oblivious targets and close quarters combat. She wanted to return to the days of solitude in the trees of Hali with the rain soaking through her clothes and chilling her skin. She wanted to tell Jean stories, and chase errant seconds through the streets. Clarke wondered why she was here, why she was listening to Nia. She lowered her head as if in deep contemplation. Her hood shadowed her face and allowed her expressions to remain unseen by the guards.

She glanced over at the ice queen with her delicate posture and fragile stance. She watched as the Queen drew a knife, and as the guards grasped the hilts of their swords.

The White Woman turned to Clarke and revealed her unsheathed weapon. Clarke stiffened, the Guards had requested she out all her weapons outside. She looked around the room to try and spot a weapon, something she could use to defeat one of the guards and steal his. She spotted Delos tucked in a corner, snoring away during a decent nap. She whistled shrilly and the Ipmu awoke with a frenzy. He dashed across the room with deceptive agility and pounced under the defence of one of the guards. However the Queen was upon her by then, an engraved dagger twisting upward in a blow towards her rib cage. The years of ruling were showing their wear though as the Queen was not half as fast as Luna. Clarke dodged the blow and turned so she could see both the Queen and the remaining guard.

The other one was bleeding out from his gobble as Delos had ripped his favourite piece of meat free. He was now sneaking up behind the second guard.

Clarke parried a thrust from the Queen as she blocked a slash from the guard using her armoured hand. She caught the sword between the two notches on the palm and fingers of the gauntlet and twisted the sword free of his grasp. The guard was defenceless as Delos climbed up the back of his shins and around his throat to claim his prize. Clarke palmed the sword and tested it's weight quickly.

Clarke turned to face the Queen on even ground. They both readied their weapons and collided for the last assault. Clarke slashed through the Queen's throat with ease as she deflected the dagger's thrust.

Clarke breathed as her blade tore free and blood splattered along the path of her knife. Her whole life had been based around smells. Once she'd loved images and pictures. But now painting and drawing stood as harsh reminders of better times and of now gone Fathers. She remembered the smell of Abby's medicine and cleanliness. She remembered the smell of sap that was always stuck in Libra's hair. She remembered the smell of grass, of mud as she fell again and again in training. She remembered the smell of the air and the wind as she got back up again.

Clarke could remember each and every one of her kills just by scent. Libra's smelled of cement, tears and iron. Aela's smelt of cedar, dog fur and bronze. Even the villages she'd mass murdered had smells all their own. Clarke often walked around Hali with a blindfold on just to enjoy the scents of bread, fish and stone that penetrated each wall of the city. Sometimes she would get lost and wind up downwind of the medical centers. Those days made her angry.

As her blade cut through the White Woman and her blood spread across the tiles, Clarke could only smell iron. Strong iron fresh from the forge and specially molded into a sword fit for a conqueror. It was a fitting smell for the White Woman, for the warrior who had raised Mother Luna.

Guards alerted by the ringing of swords stormed the chamber. Their drawn weapons were sheathed once they noticed the Queen's blood upon Clarke's blade. They lead her out of the room and through the hallways. The walls of the fortress seemed to have been designed to confuse strangers as Clarke once again found herself completely lost but for another's directions. They lead her to a throne room. It was beautiful with a throne made of iron styled like the root system of a wind toppled tree. It seemed uncomfortable with harsh grooves and bumps resulting from its natural styling.

Clarke did not want to spend more time than necessary sitting atop this throne. As she sat herself cautiously atop it, Clarke realized that the throne was uncomfortable as a reminder to the ruler that one could not get too comfortable with power. She mentally restated a need to find a way off this throne.

She'd made herself a promise though, a goal to reach for in dark times. She wished to place her people at the top of the command structure. She wished to rule. A simple question remained, who were her people? But Clarke was tired of the politics. She was tired of floundering around and walking into things half assed. So, Clarke leant back into the cool iron of the throne and sent for her council. She was removing the doubt from her heart, the cancer from her new country. She sat like a coiled viper with constantly shifting allegiances and a focus solely on the survival of her people. Clarke knew who her people were.

She knew it like she knew the ground was beneath their feet and the sky above their heads. Clarke was a Northerner. So, as her council kneeled before her, she demanded a meeting with Luna and Mung, the leaders of clans Floudonkru and Maunkru. Together they would stand united against their southern rivals and the Twilight. Clarke could feel it in the hairs on the back of her head, she could tell that soon, soon she would have a chance at revenge. Soon she would be able to live life as she saw fit. Clarke turned to the servant besides her throne and called for a messenger. She sent the messenger off with four warriors on a quest to find the banished son of Queen Nia. She settled into her throne and pondered the power that now followed her.

* * *

When Lexa was nine she fought the Commander for the first time. She'd grasped her sword with a white knuckled grip and a frown as Titus droned on and on about the honor of facing the Commander in combat. Her predecessor had stood behind him with wide, proud shoulders and a blank face. She'd known herself to be ready. Her spirit had ached for this fight her whole life.

As Titus stepped aside and declared the match begun, Lexa charged forward and struck at the unsuspecting Commander.

He barely even glanced at her as he struck her out of the way.

Lexa flew several feet as her small form was casually swatted aside. She landed on her side and earned her first scar as the Commander approached her and sliced across her exposed calf to end the fight till first blood.

He knelt next to her and whispered words that would stick with her for the rest of her life, "Remember the taste of the dirt. Remember it and never shall you fall the same way twice."

10 years later as Lexa paced the deck of Jus en Klaka as they journeyed back to Trikru Territory, she remembered the taste of dirt. She remembered the way her opponents would grind her face into the ground after a spectacular loss in training. She remembered the way she ground her opponents' face into the ground as she got her revenge.

Lexa also remembered the way she and her opponents would help each other up at the end of the match before listening to Titus as he picked apart their personal styles.

Her pacing stopped as forested land came into sight along with a burning horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!  
> After the recent death of [I won't say because you all know who and I hate to spoil people], I kind of sort of ended up in shock and was reduced into a quivering ball of sticky notes. After many playthroughs of Dragon Age and several episodes of Schitt's Creek, I have finally emerged from my ego cocoon.  
> Btw if you're a fan of Dragon Age feel free to check out my new stories The Wild Within and Minions Opposed to Bloated Sinuses. One is a tragedy of epic proportions and the other is a humorous ramble. I'll leave it up to you to determine which is which!  
> Prepare your brains because everything is about to get blown to hell to reflect my current inner turmoil.  
> Don't let the cheese sweat,  
> FoM


	28. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time Skip

Clarke had never been one for politics. Her skills tended to lay more in stabbing than negotiating and her ears were rubbed raw by the artificial lilts of diplomats. She hated the false smiles and empty words that dallied between politicians. The words twisted and confused her with their double meanings. Her fists usually served as a remedy to that confusion.

Her negotiations often took the form of threats and violence with the offer of exclusion in return for favors. The obvious downside being that people would eventually come to take offense to her methods. Irrelevant is the matter of how she'd recover negotiations after souring them with a bit too much violence. Others were occasionally thankful for her intervention as the meetings she attended usually ended far earlier than the ones she missed. A fond memory or two pertained to the times she'd intimidated some overly important warlord into fleeing the room.

Delos was usually helpful in these situations as the odd lump of fur enjoyed chittering in the background with his clawed paws stuffing bloody bits of miscellaneous flesh into his mouth. Clarke would never forget the horrified look on Indra's face as she watched him devour a meal for the first time. Nor the face Luna made when she realized that her daughter's pet was far more dangerous than the dagger she'd gotten her for her birthday.

It took barely two days of Clarke sitting on the Azkru throne for her to grow bored with it all. The only excitement in the job was in the three assassination attempts she'd gotten to thwart. Luna's rulings in Hali had always seemed exciting. A grand adventure in espionage that was now beyond her reach. In just two days it was already feeling as if she was chained to her new responsibilities. She imagined Jean would enjoy the vivid imagery running through her mind of a vast array of chains wrapped around the twin pillars next to the cold, rigid throne.

Her general dislike of this new found accountability resulted in the mangled corpse of a would-be assassin by the third day of her sitting on the throne and a disemboweled diplomat by the fourth. By the fifth day the assassination attempts had doubled to four a day and she no longer killed the would-be assassins before feeding them to Delos.

It was not at all surprising when by the sixth day of her reign her advisor finally learned what his eight predecessors had failed to, you did not honey your words before the new Queen. The first advisor's head was slowly decomposing on a spike next to the door to her throne room. The servants were quite distressed about the smell.

By the seventh day, the assassination attempts had stopped and in their place an endless sea of messengers from the villages under the ice queen's command had begun to arrive. The disappearance of people to torture marked a steep decent in Clarke's mood.

The guards never found the body of the eighth advisor. On the eighth day of her reign, Clarke hired the ninth.

By the ninth day of her reign, Delos had started to roam outside of the throne room as the endless supply of flesh no longer seemed to tempt him as much. He was the first of the duo to encounter a grounder by the name of Ontari. Hidden in the cellars below the castle, she was locked within a fully stocked series of chambers that contained a sparring room, kitchen and bed room. She attempted to kill him at first due to mistaking him for a giant rat, but after several visits decided that he was unworthy of her notice. Delos didn't mind, humans who ignored him were easier to kill than the ones who did.

The twentieth day of her reign was met with a messenger at her border. The trikru were calling for her aid. Clarke considered the request for a breath. An inhale brought with it thoughts of potentially joining Lexa's coalition, of honouring the deal she'd made in Hali what felt like a life time ago. An exhale summoned the retort as the Northerners had other priorities to see to. She denied Lexa's request. Her nation was in upheaval and until she could get someone else on the throne or an alliance with the other Northern Clans, no Azkru soldiers would leave her borders.

Fifty eighth days passed before Roan, son of Queen Nia, returned from his exile and took the throne. Clarke and Delos vanished the next day. The chipmunk only showing remorse at leaving behind Ontari. He thought the girl needed a friend.

It was sixty four days after Clarke had left the throne to Roan that she found the courage to find a boat to take her back to Hali. On the sixty fifth day, she returned to her home.

Luna had seemed surprised to see her again. Clarke had shared a moment of intense eye contact upon returning to the village but alas she could not decipher what it meant. Her mother had always been mysterious, an enigma if not stone cold. In the mornings Clarke could almost ignore the presence of Bugia at the table. By nightfall all she could see was the skinned face of Nero nailed to their door.

She had nightmares now, an oddity in a life previously dreamless. Guilt crept out from the shadows and burdened her shoulders. She saw Jean once, after she'd returned to the city. The happy girl who'd dreamed of princesses and fairy tails was haunted too. Shadows hung under her eyes and guilt dwelt there too. The crew of her ship had never returned from their journey to Ton DC. Jean stayed with Lupa now in the slums of the refugee district. Clarke's eyes tended to avoid landing on the bruises that marked her neck and arms. She didn't want to think about the life that awaited her once the young girl realized the horrors of the world. The Bloody Smile frowned as thoughts of wolves hiding themselves amongst sheep crossed her mind. Absolute poverty was no stranger to the city of Hali. Incorruptible morals were.

Luna no longer welcomed Clarke to war meetings. It was Bugia who stood at her right side now as second. Clarke tried to pretend that this new pecking order did not bother her. The whispers revealed that it was too late for her to bother.

Clarke never stopped wearing her armour. She was a proud warrior of the Black and nothing would change that. Not even the whispers in her ear telling that she was no longer a hero. Sometimes the voices would turn to screams and she'd run into the forest with Delos to hack away at the trees blaming their commander for this newfound humanity. Often she'd row a boat out to sea and star at the stars wondering if Lexa still remembered the promise she'd made.

Six months had passed since Clarke had ended her reign when the whispers grew too strong. She wished for silence. It had been four months since she spilled another's blood. Her anger rose as the whispers continued in their nonsense, as the guilt haunted her at every corner. Foreign faces seemed to scream at her, taunting as they demanded a tribute.

Four months and five days passed before Clarke's anger and desperation overflowed. A knife slipped into her hand in the middle of the night. Its presence innocent and already bloodied from the guts of fish. Thoughts of Bugi and his anger were banished as she knelt near Bugia's bedside. The girl lay on her side with her hair unbraided and sprawled across her pillow. Clarke brushed a wayward piece away from her face before gently kissing the girl's cheek. She inhaled the scent of her prey, of her old second and future ruler. Clarke's hand snuck underneath the girl's neck. A groan emerged from pink, thin lips as the girl started to stir.

Clarke's hand tightened it's grip as her knife slit the girls throat. The last thing Bugia saw was the blood splattered smile of her old mentor.

Six months and fifteen days after the beginning of Clarke's reign or four months and eight days after her last kill, The Bloody Smile was declared heir to the name of Mother.

Eleven months after the beginning of Clarke's reign, two messages arrived at Luna's desk. The first, a notice from the clans of the Azkru and Maunkru that all three clans would meet in Hali to officially become the Northern Alliance.

The second was a three sentence message from Commander Lexa of the Trikru, "Send Clarke. The sky is raining fire. Ragnarök is here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited Note: This is the end of Clarke's story of becoming the Bloody Smile. She was a riffle on a creek that got swallowed by the wave of a sea she did not see coming. This whole story is being updated as over the 2 years I've been writing this my style has changed a lot. So if the quality of writing dropped off halfway through you probably caught up to my editing. 
> 
> The second part of this series is called Of Dirt and Stone and it is the story of the 100 on the ground. I look forward to sharing what I've been working on with you guys!
> 
>  
> 
> Original Note:  
> Here it is! The moment you've all been waiting for!
> 
> Updates will probably be coming every two months or so at a much larger length from here on. 
> 
> Chicks do dig scars, 
> 
> Follower of Mania


End file.
